


A Quiet Kind Of Rebellion

by Palestar_aow



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Fluff, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Pining, References to Depression, Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris Are Best Friends, Romance, Slow Burn, Stanley Uris is a Good Friend
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-02-18 03:44:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21921250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Palestar_aow/pseuds/Palestar_aow
Summary: This is a story of how Richie and Stan's friendship stays strong through all their ups and downs.Or, more specifically, this is a story about how a murder brings out many secrets and revelations. It causes the line of friendship to blur as each tries to figure out who they are and how they fit into the world.This is set around 1994 and the Losers are aged 17/18. Rated Mature for language and mild sexual references.*This is purely a work of fanfiction - I do not own any characters created by Stephen King.
Relationships: Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris, Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris, Stanley Uris & Everyone
Comments: 19
Kudos: 78





	1. Chapter 1

Stan was the last to arrive at the Barrens that day. He was usually last to arrive on the weekends, but today he was later than usual as he had been at Temple most of the day. There had been a Bat Mitzvah and Stan had helped tidy up. Now they only had maybe an hour before he and the others would have to start heading home. Sometimes Stan resented having more responsibilities than the others, but when thoughts like that crept in he would just have to remind himself that this was just the way it was, and there was nothing he could do about it. No matter how much Stan wished he wasn’t different from his friends, it didn’t change the fact that he was. It had always been that way really, he was the oldest and had always been the most mature of his friends, the first to become a man, and he took that role seriously. He was the mother figure of their little group, and he liked to watch out for his friends and help them. But he did sometimes feel like his _differentness_ separated him from them, like there was an invisible fence keeping him apart from them.

The others looked up at him as he loudly trod through the bracken to where they were all sat in a circle, smiling at him. He looked for a free spot to sit down and chose the one between Richie, whose nose was pressed into a book, and Bev who was absently flicking through a magazine. The others seemed to be in a heated discussion and Stan groaned inwardly as he sat, realising that the topic of discussion was yet again whether the new girl was hot or not. They had been talking about this for the past week, and to be honest Stan was getting a bit bored of it. She was pretty, but no prettier than any of the other popular girls in their school. Besides, there was no way any of them were ever going to actually get to talk to her – she had been snapped up by the popular crowd so there was no way she would risk speaking to any of them. He settled into his spot and Bev wordlessly shifted her position so that Stan could also read the article. Yet another reason why Bev was the best – she already knew Stan wouldn’t want to join in their conversation and had saved him from being dragged into the debate, _again_ , with such a simple gesture. Stan shot her a look full of gratitude and then they sat quietly together, blocking out the others bickering over where exactly the new girl sat on the hotness level.

Stan doesn’t pay attention until he hears Eddie say “Bullshit, you’ve never kissed anyone!”. Stan automatically looked to Richie, thinking that he had come out with some quip about snogging someone, but he was still reading and completely oblivious to the others. Stan wondered who Eddie was talking to, as far as he knew the only ones of them who had ever kissed anyone was Bev and Bill, and that didn’t even really count as it was in a play. But by the way Mike’s checks were reddening it seemed that he was the one Eddie had been talking to. Stan was about to ask who Mike had kissed when Bill said, quietly, “I kissed Lucy Winthorpe”. Both he and Bev’s heads shot around to face Bill at that comment. Stan hears Eddie cry out an incredulous “bullshit!” while Bev asks “when?” and Stan thinks that he might be the only one who noticed that Bev’s question came out a little too demanding, a little too forceful. Bill just shrugged, like it was no big deal. “Last month at my party” he answers. Stan tried to recall if he had seen anything out of the ordinary that night; he had been at that party but couldn’t remember seeing Bill and Lucy speaking to each other even once. But, then again, he had spent most of the party in the kitchen. Parties weren’t really his thing, he couldn’t dance and always ended up left in the kitchen waiting for his friends to come back, or standing awkwardly in some corner watching his friends dance and have fun. Stan wished he could be more like them, that he could just let loose and be in the moment, but he just couldn’t get out of his own head and would convince himself that people would laugh at him.

“There’s no way you kissed Lucy and never told anyone about it” Eddie stated in a dismissive tone, bringing Stan back to the present.

“Well I’m t-t-telling you now, aren’t I?” Bill shot back at him.

“Wait, so you really kissed Lucy?” Ben asked, quieter. There was an awkward silence. Everyone suspected Ben had a crush on Lucy, although he had never said it out loud. Bill nodded, a guilty expression on his face. “Oh” was all Ben said. There was a tension in the air and Stan suddenly become very interested in his shoes.

“Why didn’t you tell us before?” Mike asked, indignant. Stan wished they would all just drop it, it was clearly hurting Ben’s feelings. Poor ben, he thought. Bill had kissed both girls Ben fancied, and he’s had to watch Bev pine over Bill all these years. That must hurt.

He glanced at Richie, wishing he would say something to ease the tension. Normally Richie would be having the time of his life ripping into Bill for kissing Ben’s crush. Ben was too kind to ever say anything to Bill, so Richie would do it for him. Richie was the funny one and was always able to diffuse any situation, even if it was just with a really shitty joke. And it always worked, because it was Richie. But he was still concentrating on reading and oblivious to the uneasy atmosphere, so Stan edged closer to him and nudged him with his foot gently causing Richie to swat at his leg, annoyed. Stan nudged his leg again, and Richie finally glanced up from his book, eyebrows raised in questioning. Stan tried his best to give him a look which would explain that it was time for Richie to step in.

Meanwhile Bill had answered them all. According to him, Lucy had “just came up to me and kissed me”. Ben’s mouth opened then closed again, clearly deciding against whatever he had been about to say. “She was really drunk though, I think she thought I was someone else. I didn’t say anything because I don’t really think it counts as a proper kiss, she doesn’t like me like that or anything”.

“That sucks, sorry it didn’t work out Bill” Ben said, with genuine feeling. Ben is so kind, Stan thought for maybe the hundredth time. None of them deserved Ben. Eddie just rolled his eyes and said “a kiss is a kiss Bill, it still counts”.

“But it didn’t mean anything. To either of us. And the week after the party she just ignored me at school, same as she always does, so she probably doesn’t even remember it”

“Your lips physically touched another pair of lips, it counts” Eddie argued. This launched Bill and Eddie into an argument over what counts as a kiss or not. Mike tried to interject by reminding them it didn’t really matter, but he was ignored. Stan stayed quiet, he usually tried his hardest not to be dragged into these kind of arguments, especially not when Eddie was involved. His voice got so shrill and he was too stubborn. He would never back down and on the rare occasion someone stood up against him to prove him wrong, he would throw a sulk for hours.

“A kiss only counts if you fancy the other person Eddie!” Bill’s voice was raised. To his surprise, Bev joined in by adding “that’s not true, kisses can count without fancying someone”. Normally Bev ignored them all whenever they talked about girls and kissing. She often told them there was nothing stupider than a group of teenage boys when they were talking about girls, and Stan had to agree with her. “You were my first kiss, even if it was just acting in a play it doesn’t change the fact that it was my first. And I’ve kissed someone I care about but don’t fancy, and that still counts too” she added. Bens head shot up again, and by the look on his face Stan could tell that other person Bev had kissed hadn’t been Ben.

“Who have you kissed Beverly?” Eddie asked, too quickly. She didn’t answer, instead she picked up the magazine again, bringing it in front of her face to hide behind. She didn’t answer when Eddie asked her again. From where Stan was sitting he could see the blush spreading over Bev’s face. Finally, Richie spoke up, his voice loud to be heard over Bill and Eddie who had started up bickering again, making Stan jump slightly. “Why do you care so much about who Bev is kissing, Eddie?” he asked with a smirk.

“I don’t!” Eddie exclaimed, voice shrill. A sure sign that he did, in fact, care very much. “I just cant believe you’ve all been going around kissing whoever and not telling the rest of us. At this rate I’ll be the only one left who hasn’t kissed anyone!”

“I haven’t kissed anyone” Stan said. As he said it he realised it was the first time he had spoken since joining them.

“No time for the ladies when you’re too busy in the park with the old ladies feeding the birds, eh Stanley? How is Joan by the way, she get her hip replacement yet?” Stan kicked out at Richie half-heartedly while Richie laughed at his own joke. Stan didn’t really mind, he was happy to be the butt of any joke if it meant the tension was lifted.

“Anyway, robots don’t count Stan” Eddie quipped. Stan scowled over at Eddie. For some reason the other Losers all thought of him like that, an emotionless robot. They didn’t even realise how far from the truth that was. For Stan the problem wasn’t that he didn’t have any emotions, the problem was that he had too many emotions. He had to constantly push all the feelings down else they would spill out and everyone would know what a freak he really was. So he pushed them all down and kept a deadpan sense of humour, keeping everyone at arm’s length for fear they would find out. Better to be a robot than a freak.

“Bet if Patty asked for a kiss you wouldn’t say no though would you Stan?” Richie asked, winking. Stan awkwardly laughed this comment off but didn’t answer. They all thought he had a crush on Patty, but the truth was Stan just liked her brain. She was smart, smarter than any of them. And she was quick too, within her first week she had managed to knock Richie down when he had tried to joke with her. He just wanted to be Patty’s friend, no more than that. He wondered if it was possible to have such a thing as a friend crush – someone you really wanted to know better and spend more time with but not in a boyfriend/girlfriend way. Truth was, Stan had never really had a crush on anyone and by this point he knew this was weird for his age. He couldn’t tell the guys he only liked Patty’s brain, he would never hear the end of it and would supply them with years’ worth of teasing. It was easier to let them think he had a crush.

“I haven’t kissed anyone either Eddie” Ben said, attempting to make Eddie feel a bit better.

“Well I’ve kissed dozens of gals Eddie! They just can’t get enough of the Tozier!” Stan knew better than to react to Richie, he just ignored him. Unfortunately Eddie always fell into Richie’s traps, and predictably rose to the bait. “You’ve never kissed anyone in your life Richie, no one’s going near that mouth of yours”

“Your mum didn’t mind my mouth last night” Stan smiled to himself while the other rolled their eyes and groaned. He could feel that Richie had successfully broken the tense atmosphere.

“Shut up Richie” was all Eddie said, without any real feeling behind it. As always, Richie and Eddie then started throwing insults at each other. Stan rolled his eyes, and they landed on Mike. Stan straightened, curious as to why Mike had been suspiciously quiet for some time.

“Have you ever kissed anyone Mike?” he asked.

“Um, yeah I have”. All of their heads swung over to Mike. His cheeks had darkened and his gaze shifted to the floor. “Why are you all so shocked?” he asked, slightly defensive.

“Well, I guess we all just supposed…” Bill began, trailing off at the end.

“Supposed what?” Mike asked, frowning. Stan wasn’t sure whether Mike was just messing with them or if he had really kissed someone.

“Well…ah…” Bill continued, stumbling over his words, “we’re just surprised you’ve had the chance to kiss someone Mike. You go from school back to your farm and there are no girls at the farm. I’ve never seen you talk to girls at school. When did you get the chance? Who did you kiss?”

“A friend” Mike answered evasively, gaze flicking away.

“Oh, I getcha” Richie said, smirking again. “let me guess, a friend from out of town who we can never prove actually exists?”

“Shut up Richie, Mike wouldn’t make it up, he’s not like you” Stan rushed to defend Mike. Stan had decided he believed him, because he was his friend and he trusted him. But he had to admit that, similar to Stan, Mike had a much busier life than the others and had never really shown interest in any particular girl before, always claiming he was too busy for things like that.

“It was me. He kissed me” Bev suddenly spoke up again. Ben’s mouth dropped open as both Richie and Eddie let out a startled “what??”

Mike cleared his throat nervously. “Well we were talking one day and I was kinda bummed out because you guys always talk about which girls you fancy and who you hope to kiss, but it’s different for me. I can sit here with you all and talk about it, but I can’t just go around in public talking about kissing white girls. If the wrong person hears then I get into a whole world of trouble. Besides, no one around here is going to want to kiss me. There’s a load of girls who are nice to me and want to be friends, sure, but no one actually wants to be with the only black kid in town. If they’re seen kissing me then they’re tainted by it. Even if by some miracle a girl does like me back there’s no way her family will allow her to date me. So Bev offered to be my first kiss, so that I wouldn’t be left out”. Bev smiled over at him, a fond expression on her face. For the life of him Stan couldn’t think of what to say. He had it bad being one of the only Jewish kids, but he had never properly thought of what it would be like for Mike. To risk being beaten up just for looking at a girl the wrong way. Mike saw how uncomfortable they all looked and grinned. “Don’t sweat it guys, it’s been the same way all my life. Besides, there’s no one else I’d rather share my first kiss with than our beautiful little miss Beverly anyway. It was perfect, I got to have with my first kiss with a best friend”. There was a beat of silence while they all took this in, until Richie exclaimed “goddam that’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard in my life!”and they all laughed along with Bev and Mike. 

The conversation moved on, but Stan made a mental note to try and talk to Mike about this another time. It wasn’t fair that Mike should feel like he wasn’t good enough. Stan wasn’t good at talking about his own feelings, but he was very good at listening to the others if they were upset. He settled back next to Bev, chatting with her about some of the outfits she liked. He didn’t really know much about fashion, but it was important to Bev so he tried his best. After a while it became too hard for them to concentrate on their conversation, as Richie had begun to make his awful momma jokes. Stan wasn’t really a fan of momma jokes, but Richie loved them. His favourite target was Eddie, of course, but none of them were safe. Richie was currently telling Ben that “Yo mama is so hot, I need a cold shower every time I see her” making Stan groan out loud. Richie turned to him gleefully, and Stan instantly regretted drawing attention to himself.

“Stanley! Yo mama…yo mama..” Richie faltered as Stan stared him down. “yo mama so sweet she gives me a toothache” he finished lamely. Stan smirked, he knew Richie wouldn’t dare say anything about his mother. When they were younger, before even Eddie and Bill had joined them, Stan and Richie had been quick friends due to living one street away from each other. Richie’s parents weren’t really interested in what Richie got up to, and usually just left him to play outside all day. It had been Stan’s mother who took Richie with them when Stan wanted to play in the park, explore in the woods, go to the cinema, or even just took them into town for ice cream. As they got older and started joining school clubs, Stan and his mother would always go watch Richie play at his baseball games. Richie’s mum went to lots of them too, and his dad went to the important ones. But Stan knew Richie would be just as devastated if Mrs Uris missed a game as he would be if his own mother missed a game."Oh yeah?" he said to Richie, eyebrow raised. "well your mother is so dumb when I threw tea cup at her she told everyone she had been mugged". Stan was extremely proud of this joke, however the other didnt appreciate it. They all groaned and told him how terrible it was, while Bev jokingly whacked him on the head with the magazine and told him not to encourage Richie. 

A short while later they all had to leave. Stan and Richie lived in the opposite direction to the others, and Richie loudly called out to them all that they would catch them at school while Stan quietly waved goodbye. They cycled home together, Richie doing wheelies every now and then and pretending to swerve into Stan every now and then. They stopped at the top of Stan’s street next to the lamppost to have one last chat before they headed home. Stan would never tell a living soul, but he secretly loved when they stopped by this lamppost. For a few minutes each day he had all of Richie’s attention, just like when they had been kids. Stan stays for a few moments when they say goodbye, absently watching Richie cycle away. As he turns his bike back around to cycle up his street, his eyes land on the missing poster tacked to the lamppost. Adrian Mellon had been missing for two weeks now, and his poster had gotten all tatty from the rain. Just like all the other missing posters, this one had been ignored by the people of Derry. Stan often catches himself thinking that there were enough missing posters in this town to make a whole book of all the faces that just simply disappeared, never to be seen again. He wasn’t completely sure where that thought come from, but he was always certain that missing posters meant the people on them were never coming back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you for clicking on my fic. This is the first time I have posted - I have never shown any of my writing to anyone before. I plan to try and post at least one chapter per week, as I think it will help me stick to deadlines and actually finish a piece of writing for once! I've always wanted to be a writer, but I've been so scared of failing that I have never let anyone see anything. I will never become an author if I don't start putting myself out there, so here goes. 
> 
> I started writing this as a small fan fiction, but the word count kept going up and up. I've had this idea knocking around in my head for a while - I have always loved Richie and Stan's friendship. I shipped them before I even knew what shipping was. Their characters, and the other Losers, are based on the characterisations from the book, TV series and 2017 film. I've loosely set it in 1994. I am not American, so apologies if there are any wrong pop culture references in here!
> 
> I hope you enjoy. Constructive criticism is very welcome!


	2. Chapter 2

Stan walked through the school hall with a growing sense of dread. He was walking with Ben, who was happily chatting about their history project assigned in the previous class, and all the ideas he had. Stan wasn’t listening, and was growing quieter and quieter with each step he took. Today was results day from their biology test last week, and Stan had been dreading it all week. The results were the only ones standing between him and a perfectly acceptable school report full of A’s and B’s, and Stan had never done well in biology. It frustrated him to no end that no matter how much he studied, it was like biology was a foreign language to him and his brain shut down whenever he looked at any of those weird diagrams of cell structures and microorganisms.

As they walked through the classroom door Stan looked over to where Mr Clarke was standing, shuffling though their test papers. Mr Clarke glanced up and Stan could tell from just that one look of contempt that he had probably failed the test. His shoulders sagged and he gloomily slid into the chair on Ben’s right. He suddenly felt quite nauseous. Stan worked hard in school and made sure he got good grades. It wasn’t just for his parents either, he genuinely wanted to get good grades. He hated the feeling of getting below a B, for him it was almost like failing. Which was ridiculous, he knew he was getting better grades than the majority of the students in his year. But it didn’t stop him from putting pressure on himself to get the best grades. He didn’t really know why. Richie was constantly reminding him that in a few years it wouldn’t matter that he had made a mistake in his maths homework or scored low on an English quiz. But Stan had always been hard on himself, and had always had very high standards to maintain. He couldn’t fail, he just couldn’t. He always pushed himself a little harder, a little longer. When he was up late at night studying and stressing out about school, he would tell himself it would all be worth it in the end. And hey, he could sleep when he was dead, right?

The strict rules and high expectations he put onto himself meant Stan often found it hard to overlook other people’s shortcomings too, especially when it was clear to him that normally all it would take was a little more effort to solve the problem. A little more thought and consideration, a little more maturity, that’s all it took in most cases. Stan wasn’t an unfair person and would always go above and beyond for any of his friends, but outside of his close knit circle he found little to interest him. Aside from Patty, of course. She was a rare exception, but he didn’t really know her that well. He probably never would, as he found it hard to make friends. He wasn’t like the others who were chatty and approachable, he was quieter than them. He knew he could come across as cold and stand-offish, even when he was with his friends. He didn’t mean to be - he just didn’t know how to tell them what he was thinking, or adequately express all the things he was feeling. He had never learned how.

He had pretty much accepted that friendship with Patty was pretty much out of his reach, not unless one of the others befriended her and she got stuck with him by default. He had the Losers and that was enough for him. He actually thought he was very lucky to have them, and wasn’t sure where he would be without them. He wasn’t concerned with being popular. Of course, he couldn’t be popular even if he was interested – in order to be popular you had to be fun, outgoing and confident. Three things Stan definitely wasn’t. In fact, he was certain he was the opposite of all those things. He wasn’t even that interesting to talk to. Stan had always assumed the only reason he even had the Losers was because Richie had started making friends with them, and Stan had joined in too because, at the time, Richie and Stan had been a package deal. Now Stan felt like the others were just so used to him being there that they just put up with him. Most days Stan felt invisible, but he didn’t necessarily think that was a bad thing. He quite liked being alone sometimes, and if he was invisible then no one else could expect anything from him. He could just fade into the background.

Stan looked up sharply to the thump of a heavy backpack being dropped carelessly on the table next to him, breaking Stan away from his spiralling thoughts. Richie flopped into the vacant chair on Stan’s left, bringing the backpack in front of his face. Richie somehow always managed to be the last one to arrive to class, no matter how close to his previous classroom it was. Stan looked around to Richie and was about to make some kind of smart ass remark when he caught sight of Richie’s face. It was all red and his eyes were watering. He looked like he had been crying. Richie caught him looking and simply said “Johnson”. Stan sighed. Brett Johnson had filled the void left by Bowers and his friends, and if anything was even worse than Bowers. At least Bowers had had his father to reign him in, whereas Johnson didn’t have to fear reprimand from anyone. “What happened?” he asked Richie, who just shrugged in response.

“Nothing he hasn’t said or done before”.

Stan was about to ask more, but Mr Clarke had stood up and heavy silence settled onto the class. Stan watched as Mr Clarke slowly picked up the stack of papers, then dropped them onto the desk with a loud _whack_. He knew this was only for dramatic effect, to make the class nervous. But he couldn’t help flinching with the rest of the students and looking down at his desk to avoid catching Mr Clarke’s eye.

Mr Clarke wasn’t the worst person Stan had ever met, but he was pretty close. And not just because he was strict and grumpy, which he was, but because he genuinely hated students. He looked at his pupils with utter scorn, and put them down at every chance he had. Whenever he handed back homework or pop quizzes he would select one unfortunate student to pick on, every single time. He would tell that student, in front of the whole class, how they would never succeed, never amount to anything, never be worth anything. It was always awful to watch, and even worse to be the unlucky one experiencing it. He constantly bullied his students, and yet the school did nothing. Parents did nothing. Stan hated Mr Clarke, but not because of all the times he had made Stan feel like shit about himself or humiliated him and made him tear up in front of the whole class. No, that was his own fault for making stupid mistakes or goofing off with Richie and Ben. What Stan really hated him for was all the times he had reduced Bev or Eddie to tears, or had Richie convinced that he would never be worth anything. Stan often thought that Richie had enough issues with his self-esteem already without Mr Clarke kicking him even further down all the time.

He warily watched as the teacher made his way through the aisles. He would pause at a desk every now and then and they would all hold their breath, waiting to see if that would be his chosen victim that day. But he continued walking up and down the aisles, until he came to a stop behind Stan. Stan stared hard at the table, silently begging for it not to be him. _Not today, please_ , he thought. He couldn’t cope today. His quiz was softly placed onto the table. He had gotten a C -. Mr Clarke let out a long sigh and Stan felt the ghost of his breath on the back of his neck, causing the hairs to stand on end. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably and sat on his hands to stop them from shaking. He couldn’t show Mr Clarke he was upset, it would be like holding a target board above his head. Stan held his breath and didn’t release it until Mr Clarke stepped forward to the next student. He hastily screwed the paper up and stuffed it into his bag, out of sight out of mind. Except it was all he could think about, he didn’t even listen properly as Mr Clarke begins to lecture a student at the front of the room. Stan could tell that Richie had noticed, he could see him out of the corner of his eye watching Stan and biting his lip. “Stan” Richie whispered. Instead of answering, Stan just picked up a pen and started twirling it in his hands. “Stan” Richie whispered again, louder.

“What?” Stan hissed back, afraid of drawing Mr Clarke’s attention this way. He was still at the front of the class making snide remarks. 

“I heard there’s going to be another test Monday. Want to come to mine and help me study later?”

“It’s Friday Richie, I can’t miss dinner with my parents”

“So go home in time for dinner. Come on Stan, you know I can’t study properly when I’m on my own. I can never concentrate properly”.

Stan sighed, not because he was exasperated with Richie but because he was exasperated with himself. They both knew Richie was only pretending to need help. Richie could be in all AP classes if he actually studied, as it was he was almost on perfect grades and he barely glanced through the textbooks. It all seemed to come easy to Richie, he never seemed worried about anything and always got decent grades. Stan knows that pretending he needs help is actually Richie’s way of asking Stan if _he_ wants help. He knows Richie thinks he is too proud to ask, which isn’t the case at all. Stan just didn’t know how to ask for help. He didn’t know how to tell someone he is struggling.

He nodded to Richie and felt a fresh wave of gratitude for having Richie as his friend. Although they bickered and Richie wound Stan up sometimes, they had only ever had a couple of serious fights. The worst one they had ever had was several years ago and was completely Stan’s fault, and it had all been over nothing really. They had been hanging out in Stan’s room, and Stan had been in a foul mood because he had gotten a C on a test that he had tried really hard to revise for. Richie had gotten a C too, but he had been pleased with that. Stan had felt anxious all that day about telling his parents – he knew his parents loved him but he also knew that they thought he was odd. He had overheard them talking to each other about him in worried, hushed voices. School and grades had always been something they could be proud of him for, and he had been worried he was going to let them down. At the time, he had felt resentful that while he worked hard at school and put a lot of effort in, Richie seemed able to remember most things by just reading or listening once and that was it, he never had to do anything else. And the fact that he just could not care less about school and homework and grades, all the things which kept Stan up at night stressing over, had pushed Stan over the edge that day. He had been sitting at his desk furiously scribbling in his notebook, pointedly ignoring Richie who was sat on the bed supposedly revising. Stan hadn’t wanted him there when he was in such a foul mood, although he had known it wasn’t fair to be so angry at him. But he hadn’t been able to bring himself to ask Richie to leave as he knew he would miss him as soon as he left. Richie had stood from the bed and walked over to the desk, leaned down and asked what Stan was grinding so angrily into the paper. He had stood too close to Stan, who liked a lot of personal space at the best of times, and it had made Stan feel uncomfortable. Richie read Stan’s English homework over his shoulder, and had innocently leaned across him to point out a spelling mistake. He had only been trying to help, but Stan had reacted like an asshole. He had shouted at Richie, telling him to fuck off and mind his own business. Richie had been pretty shocked, understandably, and insisted he was only trying to help. It had escalated into a full blown shouting match, neither of them willing to admit they were in the wrong. Stan had called him out for never bothering with school, not caring about anything, and treating everything and everyone like a joke. By the time Richie stormed out of his room they had been practically screaming at each other. After he left Stan had cried heavy angry tears, holding his arms tight against his chest to try and ease the ache that had settled there. Stan had called Richie’s home straight after dinner, feeling like shit. Richie’s mom had answered after the sixth ring and Stan had waited anxiously while she went to fetch Richie, frightened that he wouldn’t come to the phone. But Richie had answered, because he was a better person than Stan, and when Richie spoke his voice had sounded thick and heavy making Stan wonder if maybe he had been crying too. Stan had apologised repeatedly, insisting that he had been a complete A-hole. And then, absurdly, Richie had started apologising too. He had said he had been careless to point out Stan’s spelling mistake and should have been more considerate since he knew how upset Stan was about the test result. Stan had never forgotten that conversation and the way Richie had blamed himself. He hadn’t slept that night, consumed with feelings he didn’t have a name for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession - I had this chapter already written before I posted the first one. I just thought I had better post it now as I probably won't have a chance between Christmas and New Year. 
> 
> Merry Christmas!


	3. Chapter 3

Richie opened his front door and stumbled through, Stan following closely behind laughing at him. The laughter died from his face as he accidentally caught sight of his reflection in the mirror the Tozier’s had hanging in their hallway, and he lowered his gaze to the floor. It’s not that Stan makes an effort to avoid to mirrors, exactly, it’s more that he’s not overly keen on catching sight of himself more than necessary. He had scars across his face from where he was attacked by a dog when he was younger. He kept his curly hair long in an attempt to cover them, but his hair never stayed where it needed to be. While Richie’s messy hair curled around his face, Stan’s darker and coarser hair stubbornly stood atop his head as though he had been shocked. Sometimes, in moments like these where he felt happy and almost relaxed, he forgot about the scars. But then he would catch a glimpse in a mirror and see them clear as day, white lines and bumps stark against his skin. It was a horrible jolt back to reality. He didn’t really remember how he got them, which was weird, and when he tried to remember or thought about it for too long he would start to feel sick so he didn’t try much anymore. The others didn’t remember properly either, but Bill was certain that it happened the day they had gone looking for turtles and then a stray dog had gone for Stan. For the life of him Stan couldn’t figure out why they had ended up in the sewers looking for a turtle rather than the creek, or why a dog had been down there, but if Bill said that’s how it happened then Stan believed him. Bill had probably wanted to catch a turtle as a pet or something. What Stan did remember, however, was how much he hadn’t wanted to go into the sewer. He even had a vague memory of trying to warn the others that it was a bad idea and was too dangerous. But he had obviously given in and just gone along with what everyone else wanted to do, like he always had back then, and then he was the one who had gotten hurt. Sometimes that made him feel the teeniest bit of sullenness, but he would never wish these scars on any of the others. He thought it was better it had happened to him rather than any of his friends, as he hadn’t been overly confident in himself to begin with anyway. He just wished it hadn’t had to have happened at all. That’s why now if there was something Stan didn’t want to do, he simply wouldn’t do it. No matter how much the others tried to convince him, if it was something he thought might put him at risk of being hurt or even just slightly embarrassed, he would refuse to do it.

Richie called out for his parents as they strode through the hallway to the staircase, but there was no answer. They had probably taken Richie’s little sister out somewhere. It was strange to Stan that while Richie’s parents had been very laid back when it came to raising Richie, they had clearly changed tact when it came to their daughter. He wasn’t sure if maybe it was because of how hyperactive Richie had been when he was younger, or if it was simply easier to raise a girl. She was only seven and they were constantly taking her places and got really involved with all her clubs, something which they had never done for Richie. Richie always said he preferred it that way, but Stan had strong doubts about that. 

Stan followed Richie up the stairs into his room, still trying to shake the wave of self-consciousness which had settled over him. Stan had never really felt comfortable in his own skin and never seemed to know what to do with his body. He stood awkwardly by the door for a second before crossing to Richie’s bed and sitting on the edge, watching as Richie went straight to Fizzgig’s cage and carefully picked him up, making a fuss and cooing at him. Richie popped him in the hamster ball by his feet to run around while he started cleaning out the cage.

Stan had bought that hamster for Richie. Because Richie’s parents were out most of the time, Richie got lonely a lot. Although he had never said it out loud, Stan knew it was part of the reason he was so needy and always wanted attention from their friends – he needed their companionship and wanted their validation. Stan had wanted to get Richie a puppy as Richie had wanted a dog for as long as Stan could remember, but Richie’s mother was allergic so they couldn’t have a dog in the house. Stan had spent days making a presentation for his parents, complete with little note cards, all about how Stan should be allowed to get a dog which he and Richie would co-own. The idea was that the dog would technically live in the Uris household but they wouldn’t ever need to worry about walking it as that would be his and Richie’s job, and Richie would pay for food and everything else. Stan had worked so hard on that presentation and created what he thought was a water tight argument. He had made sure to focus heavily on how much the experience of co-owning a dog would teach him about responsibility, and had also hinted at how the burden of all the washing, feeding and walking duties would be likely to put him off having children for a long time, but would prepare him for the day that he eventually did decide he was ready. His parents had been extremely amused by the presentation, but ultimately the answer had been no. His dad had been impressed with how he debated his argument though, and had brought him to the pet shop and gave him the money to buy Richie a hamster. Richie was overjoyed when Stan turned up on his doorstep with the hamster, and promptly named him Fizzgig owing to how much Richie loved The Dark Crystal. Personally, Stan didn’t think a cute fluffy hamster should be associated with something as creepy and weird as that old film, but he had to admit the name Fizzgig really suited the little guy. Stan just had to repress the memory of Fizzgig’s namesake. Richie loved that hamster so much. When Richie was at home it was permanently attached, it was extremely cute really – it would happily sit up on Richie’s shoulder while Richie did homework and fed it little pieces of food. It made cute noises too, almost like it was talking back when Richie fussed over him. Fizzgig was Richie’s most loved thing in the world, and it clearly loved Richie back. Stan had had no idea hamsters could be so affectionate, but Fizzgig really was. Stan was really proud that Fizzgig still remains to this day Richie’s all-time favourite present, even beating the Doom PC game he had gotten last Christmas which Richie had been desperate for.

Stan shifted his weight on the bed to get more comfortable, knocking some papers and a book to the already crowded floor. At first glance Richie’s room looked like a bit of a tip. There were piles of things all over the floor, from stacks of comic books and dirty clothes to the hamster ball and spare tubes for building obstacle courses for Fizzgig. He had a bookcase but it was so packed that the books were spilling out of it. When they were little Richie’s room had been the same yellowing shade of magnolia as the rest of the house, but as the years went by Richie had almost completely covered the walls with posters to the point where it was hard to see any wall at all. But it actually all made a Richie-kind of sense - it was the perfect definition of organised chaos. Comic books weren’t just thrown around – they were organised by genre and issues, and were all stacked together. Dirty clothes were always put on or near to his desk chair. His bed was almost always made, although it would always be covered in stuff. In contrast, Stan’s mother redecorated his house every few years and insisted the walls all got repainted regularly to keep the house looking new; she would never dream of letting Stan put up posters like Richie’s. Everything in Stan’s house was organised, there was a right and wrong place for everything. Stan’s own room was pristine, even all the figurines he had in there were all in their proper place and facing the right way. Stan should hate the mess of Richie’s room, but actually he really liked it. It seemed more lived in, somehow, than Stan’s room.

Stan’s picked up one of Richie’s magazines from the haphazard stack on the floor while he waited for Richie to finish with the cage and flicked through absently. The magazines were Richie’s new _thing_. Stan didn’t see the appeal at all, but Richie’s parents let him subscribe to a whole bunch of them meaning that every month Richie would receive an issue from one publisher or another. They were all pretty zany. He turned a page to find an article discussing the new US approved genetically engineered tomatoes. Apparently, this was the beginning of the government using GM foods as a weapon in their goal of world domination. ‘Flavr Savr’ tomatoes were, according to the journalist, only the beginning. Stan snorted as he read.

“Something chucklesome, Stan?” Richie called out.

“Why do you read these things?”

“They’re funny”

“They’re lame”

“I dunno, some of them are kind of interesting”.

Stan held up the copy in his hand, an incredulous look on his face. “The Yeti” he declared, reading from a different article out loud, “fact or fiction? The government suppression of the overwhelming new evidence shedding light on this mysterious beast”. Stan looked up at Richie, who stood from bending over the cage and pushed his glasses back onto his face with a sigh.

“Ok, well maybe not that one. But there’s a couple of really good ones in there, I swear”.

“Richie if you’re not careful you’re going to end up living in a camper van somewhere with maps taped all over the walls, raving about how the government are keeping secret alien labs”. There was a notable silence as Richie bent back over the cage, his back to Stan. “Wait…Richie please tell me you don’t actually believe the government have aliens”. Another silence. “Oh come off it! You cannot be serious right now!”

“Ahhh, but Stanley! As the good book says, believe not what the government tells you until you see it with your own eyes!”

Stan grimaced. Ever since Richie saw Fiddler on the Roof he had adopted Tevye as one of his voices and would constantly use it on Stan. It was actually a very good impression, not that Stan would ever admit that to Richie. He didn’t need any more encouragement, he already had a habit of breaking into his own improvised verses of ‘if I was a rich man’, creating his own “if Stan was a rich man” lyrics.

“Don’t think the book does say that” Stan said absentmindedly, eyes scanning through the Yeti article. It did actually look kinda interesting.

“How would you know?” Richie asked, a teasing note in his voice. Stan raised his head to see Richie looking back over his shoulder at him, smirking.

“Whatever” he lamely answered, hiding his amusement. It was true though - despite Stan’s father being relatively pious, and listening to readings from the Torah during Sabbath and Temple, Stan had never properly read the book. Stan’s father would occasionally quote passages at him which Stan knew were meant to be meaningful but more often than not just left him bewildered. It wasn’t his fault that none of it ever stuck in his head. Stan had barely made it through his Bar Mitzva - Richie had helped him practice, he alone knew how much Stan sucked at his own religion. No one ever asked him anything about it anyway, although for some reason Richie had taken an interest. He had asked to come for Sabbath a few times over the years, had asked his father some polite questions, and had even asked to stay over during Hunukah. Stan had been nervous at first, afraid Richie would crack some dirty joke and his parents wouldn’t let them be friends anymore, but Richie had taken the whole thing surprisingly seriously.

Stan put the magazine down onto the bed, quickly realising it wasn’t offering any actual concrete proof of the Yeti. He looked over to Richie as he moved around the cage, finishing up. He had his tongue poking out in concentration. Stan considered him for a moment before speaking up again.

“So are you going to tell me what was up with you earlier?”

“Hmm?”

“In biology. You said it was Johnson?” Stan had been thinking on this all day, waiting to bring it up again. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Richie genuinely upset about something, so whatever Johnson had done must have been bad.

“Oh, yeah. Nah, it was nothing”.

Stan knew he was being brushed off, but continued on regardless. “You looked upset”.

“Allergies” Richie answered with a shrug.

“Right….” Stan trailed off. This wasn’t like Richie. Brett Johnson bullied all of them despite the fact they were all too old for dumb crap like school bullies, and normally after any of them had an encounter with him Richie would launch into a tirade about how much he hated Johnson and would call him every colourful name he could think of. It was obvious Richie didn’t want to talk about it this time, which just made Stan want to know what was going on even more. It did seem like Johnson had been singling Richie out more often lately. “You sure you don’t want to talk about it?” Stan asked.

“Seriously Stan, drop it already” Richie snapped. His tone was sharp and Stan flinched in surprise. It was rare for Richie to snap at anyone, it was more his style to joke his way out of things when he was annoyed. Clearly it was sharper than he had intended – he turned to face Stan and ran his hand through his hair, looking at Stan apologetically. “Honestly, it was nothing”.

Stan hesitated before replying. He didn’t believe Richie, but didn’t want to push him when he clearly didn’t want to talk about it. Richie had already turned away from Stan.

“Ok” Stan replied, not knowing what else to say. A silence threatened to stretch out between them.

“Thank you for caring though mommy” Richie teased, tying Fizzgig’s water bottle to the bars of the cage.

Instead of replying, Stan picked up a pillow and threw it at the back of Richie’s head. The impact jolted him forward slightly and he dropped Fizzgig’s water bottle, causing it to spill on the clean bedding Richie had just put in there. Richie looked up at Stan, pretending to be outraged. “Look what you did to our son’s room Stanley!”

Stan laughed at him while he scooped out the wet bits. As soon as Richie fixed the water bottle, Stan threw Richie’s other pillow at him. Richie turned in time to catch it, and charged at Stan with the pillow. This turned into a full blown pillow fight, which Stan won. Stan fell back to lie on the bed, while Richie aimed one last minute thump to Stan’s chest then collapsed beside him. Laughing, Stan turned to face Richie. He loved moments like these, moments where they both forgot they weren’t kids anymore. They were meant to be becoming men, in fact Stan was already meant to be a man – his parents had been reminding him since he was thirteen that he was now responsible for himself. He had always felt like he grew up faster than the other losers because of this, had always felt like he was the responsible one. But at moments like this, he felt like it was ok to let go. No straightened back and stiff posture, no serious expression, no worries or niggling doubts – just laughter and joy. He only ever let himself be silly like this when he was with Richie.

Stan heaved himself back up so that he was sitting crossed legged, his knee leaning against Richie’s stomach. Richie abruptly got back up and looked for Fizgig, causing Stan to frown. Richie had been weird about touching lately. Normally Richie had his arms and legs splayed out everywhere, constantly hugging the others, pinching cheeks or ruffing up their hair. But Stan had noticed the physical displays of affection had dwindled recently, only because he was so awkward about touching and personal space himself. He had never minded being hugged by Richie, they were pretty much the only thing stopping him being completely touch starved. He wouldn’t bring it up with Richie though, for fear Richie would think he was being too weird. Stan tried his best to keep tight control over how much weirdness he let leak out.

While Richie got Fizzgig out of his ball, Stan picked up his backpack and pulled out his notebook and skimmed the notes he had taken during class. “So are we going to study now or what?” he asked.

“Why shcertainly, Mr Stanley!”

Stan screwed his face up. “Was that the British voice?”

“No. Old time gangster voice”.

“Oh. It needs work.”

“Aw heck, I’ll get right on that” Richie replied, slipping into some kind of equally bad Texan type accent. Stan rolled his eyes at him.

Richie didn’t come back to the bed, instead pulling out all his notes and sitting at his desk. Fizzgig was perched on his shoulder, having a wash. “Right so, where to start?” Richie asked, looking at Stan expectantly.

“Huh?” Stan asked, distracted by Fizzgig, “Oh, er...I was hoping you would tell me”

“Well which bit don’t you get?”

Stan stared back at him blankly. “All of it”.

Richie scratched his head with the end of his pencil, chewing the side of his mouth. “What if we forget about what Clarke said in class and just go through it the way I learn it instead, would that help?

Stan nodded. They worked through the past week’s notes quickly, but once they had finished Stan still wasn’t confident. “I still don’t get it” he said to Richie. He let out a big sigh of frustration and leaned forward so his face lay between his cupped hands. “I’m going to fail” he moaned, fed up. Richie didn’t say anything, he just chewed his mouth some more and glanced at the clock in his room. Stan realised with a jolt that it was past time for him to start heading back home. Sighing, he stood up and began putting all his things back into his backpack.

“I can come over tomorrow if you like? We can go through it again” Richie offered.

“You sure? Wouldn’t you rather be out with the others?”

“S’fine. We can meet them after”

“We would be late though. You sure you don’t mind?” Stan asked, hoping Richie wouldn’t change his mind. Although Stan enjoyed the time they spent just the two of them, it only ever seemed to happen when they needed to study. They never seemed to just hang out anymore, not in the same way Richie sometimes did with Ben or Eddie. Stan got it though. He just didn’t shine as bright as the others did.

“Why are you being so cagey?” Richie asked, grinning. “You got a secret girlfriend coming over or something I don’t know about?”

“Nope. No secrets”

“Well then, I’ll come over around 11?”

“Ok, yeah. That would be great!” Stan stood awkwardly with his backpack half on and half off his shoulder. “Thank you” he added, hoping Richie would know he didn’t just mean for today. 

As he cycled home Stan let his mind wander. Although he had told Richie he had no secrets, that wasn’t true. There were things Stan kept from Richie and his friends, even from his own parents. He didn’t tell people all the things he thought about, he only told them the good stuff. But there were other thoughts, things which crept into his mind at night or when he was alone for too long, things which made the hole in his chest widen and ache and made his body feel heavy with exhaustion. Those were the things he never told anyone about, because he knew if anyone were to know the real him then he would quickly find himself alone in the world. Or, even worse, in a straitjacket.

He pulled his bike into the garage and stepped into his house through the side door, careful to take off his shoes whilst still on the mat. He called out to his parents and heard a muffled reply from the living room. He entered the room expecting a reprimand for being home late, but to his surprise both his parents sitting watching TV, a very unusual event before their Friday dinner. Normally they would all be helping to prepare the meal by now. Stan glanced at the TV and saw it was a news report. He sunk into the armchair as he realised Derry had made it onto the news. He knew, instantly, that it wouldn’t be for anything good. Nothing good ever happened in Derry. Stan inhaled sharply as he recognised the face on TV. Adrian Mellon’s missing poster filled the screen as the reporter’s sombre voice filled Stan’s ears, explaining he had been murdered and left tied up in a field, the word ‘homo’ carved into his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter is so long - I thought about splitting it into two but couldnt find a good place to split it.


	4. Chapter 4

Stan sat at the end of his bed, knee bouncing up and down rapidly. He had felt jittery since he woke up, but he couldn’t figure out why. He stood up and touched the bird figurines his grandmother had given him years ago, wondering if maybe one of them had wobbled slightly or was out of place. He fussed over them, but they were all already in exactly the right spot. He turned to his bed and straightened his covers before sitting once more. His leg began bouncing again and he ran his palms over his legs in an attempt to make them still. _Be normal_ , he told himself. _Just be normal_. He hated when he got like this, like he had lost something he had forgotten about or was waiting for bad news which he knew would never come. He was out of place. Yet again.

He looked over at his clock and saw it was 11.40 am. Richie was late, but Stan had expected him to oversleep anyway. Stan smoothed the non-existent creases on his shirt. _Normal_ , he reminded himself. He got up again and went to his desk, trying to distract himself with his maths homework. When he looked at the clock again he saw it read 12.10. He let a huff, realising Richie had probably forgotten about him. He hesitated, uncertain as to what to do. He doubted he would be able to revise properly for biology on his own, not in the strange mood he was in. But the thought of leaving now to meet up with his friends made him feel slightly guilty – his parents had allowed him to stay home from Service this morning so that he could revise with Richie. His parents often made allowances for Stan’s schoolwork, his mother in particular always put his education above all else. Stan was glad his parents were more laid back about his religious studies than his grandparents, whom he always seemed to disappoint somehow. His parents didn’t even ask him wear his kippah anymore, it had been safely stored in his desk drawer for a long time now. Stan was grateful for this, as he would probably be bald by now with all the times it had been ripped from his head at school.

Making a decision, he grabbed his key and headed downstairs. He was just taking his raincoat off the hook in the hallway when his parents entered the front door. His mother blinked at him in surprise and Stan, flustered at being caught leaving, told her that he had forgotten that he was actually supposed to meet Richie at his house. His mother gave him a long look. “You need to be more careful with your friends Stanley” she sighed, and stood aside to let Stan leave.

As Stan slid past them with a hasty goodbye, he couldn’t help but think of all the other times his parents had said similar things to him. He needed to be more careful, more confident, more outgoing. That’s always been his problem, he was never enough the way he was. He should be _more_.

Once Stan cycled to the end of his street he hesitated. He knew the others would be at the Barrens by now, Richie more than likely with them. But he needed to be certain. He didn’t want to turn up and let Richie see the hurt expression he had no doubt he wouldn’t be able to hide. He didn’t want anyone to know how much it hurt him to be forgotten. So he decided to cycle past Richie’s house, expecting to see his bike gone from the front lawn. To his surprise though, it was still there – left exactly where Richie had dumped it after school yesterday. Stan knocked at the front door and before he had even had time to step back from the door Mrs Tozier answered. She was dressed in a pale blue dress and her hair and makeup were impeccable, as always. “Hello Stan” Mrs Tozier happily greeted him, “we’re just on our way out. I don’t think Richie has woken up yet”. She moved back slightly to let him inside and as Stan entered the hallway he had to step around Mr Tozier and little Emma. The three of them waved cheerily at him and then left. Stan stood for a second, grinning at the thought of how his mother would be shocked at the shade of Mrs Tozier’s lipstick.

He entered Richie’s room without knocking. They had long since gone past catching each other in any embarrassing situations. Stan had caught Richie once and, despite the initial shock, it was one of the funniest things Stan had ever seen – Richie had let out a high pitched yelp, tried to drag the blanket over himself to cover up, and ended up knocking himself off the bed. As he entered now, he saw straight away that Richie was just lying on the bed with his Walkman on, completely stretched out and eyes closed. Stan stood for a second looking at Richie. Clearly the ass had forgot about their plans. Tsking with annoyance, Stan strode over to the bed and gave the edge a kick while leaning over Richie, pulling one side of his headphones from his head. “Hey dumbass, I’ve been waiting all -“

Stan abruptly pulled back and let go of the headphones with an audible snap to the side of Richie’s head. Richie had opened his eyes to look at him, jumping in surprise at being disturbed, and Stan could clearly tell from Richie’s bleary and puffy eyes that he had been crying. Straight away Stan’s head swung to look at Fizgig’s cage to check he was ok, but could see him happily chomping on some food. Slowly, he perched at the edge of the bed and faced Richie.

“Hi” he said, in a softer voice. Richie sat up but didn’t reply, instead he began picking at his nail beds. He gave a loud sniff. Stan felt at a bit of a loss as to what to do or say, he hadn’t had to offer comfort to Richie in a long time. As far as Stan knew, he was the only one who had seen Richie cry in years. They had all seen Richie upset when they were kids, and had seen him tear up a couple of times when he fell over and hurt himself badly. But that had been years ago, and now Stan had seen Richie visibly upset in twice as many days.

"You okay?" Stan asked, trying to make his tone soft and comforting. Richie looked up swiftly, his face flushing red when his eyes met Stan’s. He quickly looked down again, biting his lip.

“Me? Oh I’m fine Mr Stanley, tip top, smashing. Peachy.”

Stan nodded slowly, wondering what on earth to do. He decided to try Richie’s normal humour trick.

“Good. That’s good Richie, glad you’re ok. Keep squishing those emotions deep down just like I told you, with some practice you could one day be an emotionless robot just like me!” Stan kept his face sombre as he said this, hoping Richie would laugh. But he didn’t, he just carried on staring at the bed covers morosely. Stan cringed at himself, knowing it wasn’t a good joke anyway. He had never been very good at being funny, the others normally gave him odd looks whenever he tried. Most of the times he had made Richie laugh he hadn’t even meant to, it was normally when he had just had enough of Richie’s bullshit and wanted to take him down a few pegs.

“Do you want to talk?” Stan asked, no longer trying to imitate Richie.

“No”

“Do you want me to go?”

There was a pause, but then Richie let out a quiet “No.”

“Ok” Stan let out a relieved breath he didn’t know he had been holding. Richie didn’t say anything else. Not knowing what else to do, Stan reached out tentatively to put his hand on Richie’s shoulder, trying to offer some kind of comfort. But Richie flinched away from Stan’s hand. That wasn’t right, Stan distinctly remembered that Richie had liked to be hugged when he was hurt or sad. Stan was the one who hid away, not Richie. Richie shifted his angle so that he moved further from Stan, letting his legs dangle over the side of the bed. Stan let the silence stretch between them, waiting for when Richie eventually decided he was ready to talk. The silence stretched a bit longer than Stan expected but he decided to let it be, knowing that Richie would tell him sooner or later. Then thankfully Richie spoke up again.

“Actually, I think you should go home Stan”. _Well, shit_ , Stan thought. “I’m fine now” Richie continued, “I just want to be on my own for a bit. Go home and we can pretend this never happened”.

“Not a chance in hell” Stan said, and moved further onto the bed to get himself comfy. He knew Richie had meant that, he really would pretend like this had never happened. Richie didn’t say any more, but didn’t ask him to leave again either which Stan took as a good sign.

“What’s wrong?” Stan tried again.

“More allergies” Richie joked flatly, still looking down and scuffing his socked feet on the wooden floor.

“You’re not joking your way out of this Richie. I’ll sit here until you’re ready” Stan stated.

Stan watched as Richie removed his glasses to clean them, watching the way his hands shook as he finished wiping them and slid them back onto his face. Stan swallowed thickly, nervous about what Richie was going to tell him. Something really bad must have happened.

“Did you, um” Richie hesitantly began, but then stalled. Stan waited silently. “Did you watch the news yesterday? You know, before your Sabbath stuff.”

“I caught a bit of it, yeah.”

“Did you see? Adrian Mellon was found”

“I saw he was murdered, but we didn’t watch long enough to get all the details” Stan said, patiently waiting for Richie to get to the point. 

Richie was silent for a few moments. “He was only a few years older than us. It’s so sad” he almost whispered the last part.

“Yes, it’s… sad” Stan hesitantly agreed. In truth Stan felt a bit lost in this conversation. Although the news _was_ sad, he didn’t understand why Richie would be this upset about it. None of them had known Adrian, and besides this wasn’t the first murder to happen in this town and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Maybe that was a bit cold of him to think like that though. Stan had realised some time ago that he was emotionally stunted. Broken. Sometimes he thought the only emotions he was capable of feeling were pissed off, scared and sad. That’s it. That’s all his repressed little heart had room for. But, he reminded himself, Richie had never seemed as upset about any of the other murders. Missing people and murder was just a part of growing up in Derry.

“Umm Richie? Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t understand why you’re reacting like this. You didn’t know him. Yes it’s sad and it’s horrible, but all murders are.” Stan leaned forward, trying to see Richie’s face.

Richie wouldn’t look at him and turned his face further away. “But this one is different Stan. This one, it…well, it hits a little closer to home”

“Adrian Mellon lived on the other side of town, he didn’t live anywhere near your house.”

Richie did look at him then, with a pained expression. “No, Stan. I mean like, emotionally”

“Huh?”

Richie put his head into his hands and mumbled something Stan couldn’t hear. Stan desperately tried to rack his brain as to what would cause Richie to react like this, and a horrible thought struck him. “Richie….Richie, did you see something? Do you know something about what happened to him?”

“I know he was killed for being gay”

“Yeah, that’s what they said last night. They said he probably came onto the wrong guy”

“Right. Flirted with the wrong guy and died for it. Painfully, alone in a field beaten and tortured to death for being a fag.”

Stan recoiled, he had never heard Richie speak that way. “Whoa, Richie!”

“What?” Richie snapped, almost snarling at him.

“You can’t say that” he scolded.

“Why, because he’s dead? Clearly no one gave a shit when he was alive. Did you know his parents didn’t even know he was gay?”

“No it’s not because he’s dead. It’s because using slurs against people makes them inhuman. It makes it easier to spread fear and hatred, which then makes it easier to excuse violence against those people” Stan said, echoing his father’s words to him from years ago. “And I guess he didn’t tell his parents because he didn’t want them to know”.

“Right. Cos of all that shame and whatnot” Richie said, bitterness in his voice. “He was missing for two weeks Stan, two weeks! You know the only reason they found him was because some guys’ dog ran off and half his street went out to help look for it. There was a search party for a dog, but not one person went looking for a human.”

Stan didn’t know what to say. The conversation had gotten completely away from him and he felt like he was saying all the wrong things. Richie seemed so angry and desperate. Stan didn’t understand what was happening. “Richie, why are you so upset?”

Richie took several shaky breaths rather than answer Stan. “Richie…” Stan said again, unable to stop the rising sense of panic from entering his voice. He was about to say something else, anything else, to break the silence when Richie spoke. He mumbled into his hands again so Stan couldn’t hear what he was saying. He reached out and took Richie’s hand from his face but Richie quickly shook his hand free and wrapped his arms around his chest.

“Because Stan!” Richie almost shouted, making Stan jump after all Richie’s near whispering. Richie inhaled deeply. “Because I’m…I’m gay” he choked out.

Stan blinked. And then blinked again, slowly, trying to take that in. _No way_ , he thought. There was no way that Trashmouth Tozier was gay, not with all his bragging and crude jokes. He’s known Richie all his life, surely he would have _known_. There was no way.

“But…you….” Stan spluttered. 

“I swear I’ve tried Stan, I swear.” Stan looked over to Richie. He wasn’t crying but he looked close to tears, his burning face was all splotchy and he looked wretched. “I’ve tried so hard not to be” he whispered.

“Oh” was all that came out of Stan’s shocked mouth, his voice cracking slightly. He felt like his brain had come to a stuttering halt. He couldn’t process this. He couldn’t fit the loud and crass Richie with this new information, it would change everything Stan thought he had known about his best friend. But one look at Richie and Stan knew it didn’t matter how Stan felt about any of it. Right now, Richie needed his best friend. And Stan would be there for him, every time.

“Hey” he said, grabbing Richie’s arm and not letting him pull away this time. “It’s ok Richie”.

Richie’s face screwed up as he fought back tears. “No its not.”

“It’s going to be ok”

“I’m going to end up dead in a field Stan!”

“That will never happen” Stan said firmly. “You’re fine” he said, pulling Richie to face him as he continued, “listen to me. _You’re fine_ ”.

“I’m sorry Stan” Richie said, his voice coming out in a shaky rush.

“No. Don’t apologise Richie. I’m sorry I didn’t know, I should have paid more attention. I should have been…more careful” he finished, remembering his mother’s words from earlier in the day.

“You were never supposed to know.”

Stan was quiet for a few moments, trying to articulate an appropriate response to that, but nothing came to mind. He looked to Richie, who was staring down at the floor again. He looked like he was struggling for words too; Stan watched as Richie’s mouth opened and closed again quickly. He still looked upset. Stan sighed, failing to think of a way to make Richie feel better or to express how he was feeling. He looked to the floor too, to where Richie’s leg was dangling from the bed. His other leg was curled underneath him. Wordlessly, Stan hooked his own leg around Richie’s. He glanced up to see Richie was looking at him in confusion, his face still burning bright red. Stan didn’t move his leg. There was a long look shared between them, a silent conversation occurring between their eyes. Richie hesitantly leaned into Stan, allowing himself to be pulled into Stan’s side for a hug. He pulled away again after only a brief moment. “Don’t you mind? About me?” he whispered, and Stan could see the fear in Richie’s eyes.

“No, I don’t” he answered. “You’re still exactly the same person you were yesterday. I’m just trying to…. _adjust_ …to this extra part of you, the part you hid away.”

“Oh. Ok. So….so we’re good? It won’t change anything?”

“No”

“No we’re not good?” Richie asked, looking pained.

“No, it won’t change anything” Stan clarified, but Richie still looked uncertain. “I promise” Stan added.

Richie visibly relaxed. “I was scared you would be disgusted.”

“Never” Stan answered truthfully.

They were silent again, the only sound coming from Fizgig’s cage as he began running on his wheel. Richie cleared his throat and wiped his arms across his face. He gave Stan a watery smile which Stan returned enthusiastically. “Wana listened to some music or something? What time do you have to leave anyway?” Richie asked, and Stan hesitated. He knew, instinctively, that if he were to leave to go home then the next time he saw Richie he would try to pass of this whole thing as a joke and pretend he was never upset. Richie always preferred to pretend uncomfortable truths were part of some big joke, he hardly ever took anything seriously.

“Actually, I was going to ask if I can stay over tonight”

“Oh! Erm, I’m not sure if that such a good idea…” Richie trailed off.

“Why? I’ve stayed over plenty of times before”

“Yeah, but that was before. Before you knew. About me.”

“I don’t see why it’s different now” Stan shrugged. Richie just stared at him. “What? Are you going to suddenly start groping me in the night now that I know your secret?” Stan joked, causing Richie to blush once more.

“Fuck off Stan” Richie said, giving him a light hearted shove. He fidgeted nervously before continuing. “Seriously though. It would be different. I know we’ve shared the bed plenty of times, but I don’t want you to start second guessing everything I do or say, or think I’m some kind of pervert if I wake up with morning wood or something.”

Stan snorted. He looked at Richie, properly. He thought back to the hyperactive mess of a boy who had befriended Stan, compared to this mess of an almost man who was scared Stan would be horrified by him. As if Stan could ever be horrified by Richie, who had been sitting in his Looney Tunes pyjamas this entire time. “I think I’ll be safe” Stan laughed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I managed to write two chapters this week! :)


	5. Chapter 5

They decided to spend the next day watching TV and hanging out. They grabbed some comics and books from Richie’s room, raided the cupboards for snacks, and settled on the sofa in the living room. Richie let Stan pick a VHS to watch, and dramatically rolled his eyes when Stan inevitably picked Raiders of the Lost Ark. It was Stan’s firm belief that it was the best film ever made, there was something about the character of Indiana Jones, a quiet and dorky professor being a secret badass, which really appealed to Stan. They only half paid attention to the film anyway, they were too busy chatting, making fun of each other, or flicking through the magazines. Everything was completely normal, and there was no awkwardness between them. That is, until the film reached _that_ scene on the boat and Indiana was suddenly topless while Marion fussed over his injuries. Richie cleared his throat and laughed nervously. “Hot” he joked, looking anywhere but at the screen.

Stan felt his cheeks heat up and an awkwardness settled over them. Stan didn’t know how to respond, his voice was trapped in his throat. But then he scolded himself. If he were sitting here with Bill right now instead of Richie, and Bill had called Marion hot, Stan wouldn’t have a problem with it. He couldn’t now treat Richie any differently by having some kind of prissy attitude. “He has…good bones. A nice face structure” he tentatively agreed. Richie looked at him in surprise but didn’t say anything else. Stan felt very awkward, but realised he couldn’t back out now. He couldn’t be half a friend and only be there for Richie when it wasn’t uncomfortable. He decided to go all in.

“Richie, can I ask you something?” Stan asked, turning in his seat to face Richie. Richie nodded, eyes seemingly glued to his hands which he was twisting nervously in his lap. “When did you first know? _How_ did you know?” Richie looks over at him, silently asking if it was ok to talk about this.

Richie cleared his throat again. “Erm, I’m not sure to be honest. I don’t ever remember _not_ knowing, you know?” Stan shook his head. “It was always just like something was missing. Like when the guys started talking about the girls at school, I just didn’t see what they saw. Sure, I made loads of jokes about it, but I just couldn’t _see_ it” Richie continued. “And, don’t laugh, but I always kinda felt like boobs got in the way. Like, if I was hugging Bev or something, I dunno I just felt like they stopped me from hugging properly”. Stan failed miserably at preventing a snort escaping him. Richie let out a huff and turned away.

“No wait, tell me more. Seriously, I want to know”.

Richie glanced sideways at him. He licked his lips and appeared to be thinking carefully about what he was going to say next. “I think…I think it’s how guys are shaped differently, how they have sharper angles than girls. And when I started to notice guys at school I realised that I could finally understand what the others were talking about when they talked about girls. I understood what it meant to have crushes”.

“Who was your first crush?” Stan asked straight away, but Richie mimed locking his lips. “Come on, I won’t tell” he added, but Richie shook his head. Stan knew from his expression that Richie wasn’t going to tell him, at least not today anyway. “Ok then, who was your first celebrity crush?” Stan asked, thinking it was a safer topic.

“You’ll never guess” Richie said with a grin.

“Indiana Jones?”

“Stan, just because you’re in love with him doesn’t mean the rest of the world is. I promise I would never steal your man like that”

“Indiana would never betray me like that anyway. Kevin Bacon?” he tried again, making Richie laugh and shake his head. “Come on, tell me” Stan said, nudging Richie with his shoulder.

Richie sighed, realising Stan wasn’t going to give in. “Anthony Michael Hall. Straight away, first time I ever saw Breakfast Club”.

“ _Really!?_ ” Stan gasped. Richie was right, he would never have guessed that. Richie was blushing furiously. He worried for a moment if he had offended Richie with his reaction, but then he caught the small smile playing at the sides of Richie’s mouth and he relaxed. He didn’t know anything about this kind of stuff, and he didn’t want to offend Richie by accident.

But, he reminded himself, he had always been clueless when it came to people his own age. His own parents were older than any of the others’, which didn’t bother Stan in the slightest, but it did mean that all of his family were much older than him. He didn’t have any siblings and none of his cousins were a similar age. Whenever he had been around family he was expected to be polite and quiet. He had always had trouble fitting in with the kids at school, who were loud and rowdy. Instead of praising him for his politeness, they found him cold and snobbish. Until Richie. He had worn Stan down by constantly badgering him, he hadn’t let up for days until Stan had finally lost his patience and called Richie a poo head. At the time, it had been the biggest insult Stan had known, although of course now it sounded ridiculous. Richie had cackled and done a little victory dance, he had actually been happy that he had cracked through Stan’s perfectly scripted exterior. With Richie, Stan had someone who wouldn’t judge or reprimand him when he talked about his hobbies and interests, geeky as they were. When Stan tried to talk about the things he liked with other people, he was met with odd looks and teasing, but even when weird things sometimes slipped out when he was with Richie he always just went with it and accepted it. Even when Richie wasn’t necessarily interested in what Stan was obsessing over, he would still listen and be willing to talk about it just because he knew it was something Stan loved. Like when Stan had first gotten really into bird watching, Richie had laughed and called him grandpa but had still put in the effort to talk about it. He had even pointed out birds he thought Stan might like when they hung out together. Stan reminded himself that he didn’t have to be as careful of himself when he was Richie. Richie had always made Stan _more_.

“What are you thinking about?” Richie asked, something he asked Stan often.

“About when we first met. I don’t know why you chose me to be your friend. I was such a nerdy little loser. I still am” Stan joked.

Richie just shrugged. “I happen to like loser nerds. I _am_ a nerdy loser”. Richie paused while Stan laughed. “Hey, Stan?”

“Mmm?”

“Thank you. For this. For talking about all this with me. You’re the only one I can talk to about any of it and, well. I promise I’m trying to be better.”

“Anytime” Stan said, meaning it. Stan gave Richie what he hoped was a smile which let him know he didn’t need to get better at talking about it, he was already doing fine. Stan had always liked listening to Richie talk anyway. Even when Richie was telling stories which everyone knew were bullshit, they all listened. He had a way of wrapping people up in his words. Stan didn’t mind that Richie talked more than he did, it wasn’t an issue seeing as Stan was more careful in choosing his words. Richie had always had such an active mind, his head was always buzzing with ideas that he had to let out. Stan thought that was probably why Richie and Eddie got along so well, neither of them ever stopped talking. Except, Richie listened too. _Really_ listened. Stan had lost count of the number of times he had been caught off guard by Richie mentioning something Stan had said years ago, or commenting on something Stan had said offhandedly the week before. Stan was always surprised at how much Richie listened to them all, or that he actually thought about something Stan said and remembered it. He was constantly surprised Richie was still his friend at all, really.

Stan suddenly remembered something which gave him an unpleasant sinking feeling in his stomach. He had a horrible feeling he may have thought of an answer to something which had been bugging him since Friday. “Richie, now that we’re sharing secrets, can I ask you what’s really going on between you and Johnson?”

Stan watched as Richie’s good humour instantly vanished. His face darkened and he brought his knees up to his chest, hunching his body over them. “Johnson’s a psycho” Richie said, his voice flat and emotionless.

Stan licked his lips nervously. “What happened?”

“He….umm.” Richie stopped and leaned his head back, eyes closed. He scratched at the back of his neck before sighing and opening his eyes again. “He caught me. Looking”

“At what?”

“At him. He caught me looking at him.”

“When!?” Stan exclaimed.

“A couple of weeks ago, maybe a month? I’m not sure. Anyway, he caught me looking and now he knows. Ever since then he’s been… well, a psycho.”

“What happened Friday?” Stan asked, afraid of what Richie was about to say. 

Richie let out a long breath. “He caught me when I went to the bathroom. He never said a word to me but he shoved me into the wall and he…he licked my face. Really slowly, it was disgusting and terrifying. It’s not the first time he’s done something creepy like that, but it feels scarier now that he knows about me. I never know what he’s going to do next and he knows I can never tell anyone about it else he tells my secret.”

“Shit” was all Stan could think to say.

“Yeah” Richie agreed, still hunched over his knees.

“You should have told me. Or told the others” Stan breathed.

“You don’t understand Stan, Johnson is truly scary. I don’t want to drag any of you into my mess”. Stan agreed entirely that Johnson was a scary guy. He had been held back a few years but no one was really sure of his actual age, though he definitely looked old. Stan had cycled past him once in town and had seen him drinking from a liquor bottle. He wasn’t sure if Johnson really was twenty one, but he could certainly pass for it probably without even being asked for ID.

“From now on you stick with me or one of the other losers ok? No more wandering around on your own” Stan said. “And I think you need to be more careful Richie. If someone as thick as Johnson can catch you then it means others can as well. We can deal with Johnson but we can’t deal with every guy you check out if you’re being so obvious about it. I think…I think you’re going to have to hide better. Not forever!” He quickly exclaimed, seeing the hurt expression on Richie’s face. “Just until you leave for college. Once you’re out of Derry it will be safer”. Stan left out the part he was really worried about, that Richie would look the wrong way at whoever killed Adrian Mellon, but he was certain that Richie had already worried himself sick about that part. He didn’t need Stan pointing out the obvious.

“I’m not going to college”

“What!?” Stan’s voice came out in a higher pitch than he was expecting, making Richie chuckle. Stan was dumbfounded. Everyone was going to college, that’s just how it went. School, college, job.

“I’m not interested in college” Richie said with a nonchalant shrug.

“Richie, _education is fundamental_ ” he said in a very good impression of their middle school English teacher. Richie chuckled. Stan sat up straight, looking at Richie. “Richie, I don’t think you can stay here after graduation. I think you should move somewhere, a city somewhere, where you can be yourself and not hide anymore. Even if you don’t go to college, you can’t stay here.” He was about to say more, but then the full weight of what Richie had said suddenly caught up with him. “Wait - Richie, do you mean - did you - Richie were you _checking Johnson out?_ ” Stan choked. Richie cackled at Stan’s horrified expression whilst Stan continued to splutter.

“I couldn’t help it Stan! I was curious! After all he _does_ have a very muscly body. As you would say - good bones” Richie said with an evil wink at a horrified Stan.

“But he’s awful Richie! He’s always been a bully, he used to punch us all the time when we were smaller! How could you ever like him like that?”

“Oh Stan, haven’t you heard? That’s my kinky little secret, I like it rough” Richie laughed even harder as Stan’s expression turned to disgust.

“It’s not funny Richie”

“I’m serious, pain really does it for me” Richie choked out through his laughter. Stan’s hand swiftly collided with Richie’s thigh that was close to him, just hard enough to make him yelp in surprise. A yelp that, in the matter of milliseconds, turned into an over the top moan, “Yes, yes, oh do it harder Stanny baby!”

“Shut up Richie” Stan said, laughing with Richie.

They settled back to watch the film together, though Stan’s mind was turning. Eventually, Stan had to leave to go home. He couldn’t put it off any longer, but he definitely wasn’t looking forward to the lecture he was undoubtedly about to receive. By the time Stan had used the Tozier’s phone yesterday to call his parents and let them know he was staying at Richie’s, his mother had begun making dinner. She was not best pleased when Stan had informed her that he would not be having dinner with them.

Just for a moment, before he was about to leave, he considered telling Richie one of his secrets. Richie had been so open and honest with him that Stan felt bad for not giving something back in return. But the thought of opening up made his chest constrict and heart race. So he said nothing except his goodbyes to Richie, and let himself out of the house.

As Stan got to his front door his eyes strayed to the Mezuzah fixed to the doorstop. His grandmother had insisted they put it up and, although Stan loved his grandmother, looking at the Mezuzah always made him feel a bit uncomfortable. To Stan, it was just something else which marked him out as _different_. A few years ago someone had thrown a stone through their kitchen window. A few months before that it had been eggs. Maybe it was asshole kids from school playing a prank. Maybe it was asshole neighbours. They would never know, the cops had done nothing about it. Stan’s parents had preached at Stan to forgive and forget the ignorance of others, but Stan could still feel that familiar anger rising in him again as he stood by his front door. He couldn’t understand why he was so hated by people who would never know him, and for something that he could do nothing to change about himself. He was Jewish, Mike was black. Ben was poor, Richie was gay. There was nothing any of them could do to change that, none of them chose it, yet people judged them for it anyway. It didn’t make any of them worth any less than anyone else, it just made them different. But Derry hated different, and someone in this town had murdered someone for being too different.


	6. Chapter 6

Stan was the first to arrive at the lamppost at the top of his street the next morning, despite getting there later than usual. He had needed to check twice that he closed the front door behind him when he left, then cycled back a third time to give it a push, just to be certain. He had had to pedal fast in order to get to the post on time to meet Richie, and was now panting slightly. He leaned heavily against it with his arm, trying to catch his breath. Adrian Mellon’s missing poster was still there, tattered and faded after the storm they had had last week. The rain had caused one crinkled corner to come unglued, and now it flapped in the wind. It gave Stan a hollow kind of feeling to see Adrian’s smiling face staring back at him, a face which had been ignored and forgotten by everyone as soon as they passed the post. That is, if they had even bothered to look at it at all. It felt like Adrian’s eyes were boring into Stan’s own and so he wrenched his gaze away, catching sight of Richie cycling towards him. Stan’s arm abruptly shot out and he ripped the poster from the post, quickly stuffing it into his bag. Richie didn’t need to see this, he thought. Besides, the poster wasn’t going to help anyone anymore. “Morning!” he called to Richie brightly. 

Richie didn’t answer until he came up right beside Stan and gave a quiet “hello” in response. Richie fidgeted with the handlebars of his bike briefly before he wheeled his bike around and started cycling away. Stan hastily leaned back onto his saddle and rode to catch up with him. “Hey hold up, what’s the rush? Since when are you in such a hurry for school?” Stan joked, and looked across to Richie in time to see him shrug by way of an answer.

“You ok?”

“Fine.” Richie didn’t say anymore and stared straight ahead as he cycled. Stan cursed under his breath. He had fully prepared himself for the likelihood that, despite the last two days they spent together, Richie would make a joke of this and try to laugh it off in order to stop Stan talking to him anymore about it. Stan had an argument all pre-planned out in his head for it, he had thought about it well into the night last night. But he had not prepared for this silent and reserved Richie.

“You’re quiet.” Stan was met with another shrug. “Daydreaming about The Breakfast Club again?” he feebly joked, trying to get a reaction from Richie who didn’t even blink. Stan would not stand for this.

He quickly put on a spurt of speed so that he was slightly ahead of Richie, then slowed enough to allow Richie to catch up. No sooner than he had done so did Stan surge ahead once more. Again, he slowed and looked behind him to see Richie’s puzzled expression. Grinning at Richie, Stan turned back around, stood up and began cycling furiously. He heard the spokes on Richie’s bike quicken as Richie caught on, and then the race began. By the time they arrived they were both panting sweaty messes, but they were both laughing. It was such a small silly thing, and although neither of them had technically won the race, Stan goal had been a success - Richie’s gloomy attitude seemed to have lifted.

As they secured their bikes to their usual posts, Stan saw they were the first to arrive. Which was a first, since it normally took forever for Richie to stop chatting long enough for them to achieve any kind of quick cycle to school. Bev and Ben had normally already locked up their bikes by the time Stan and Richie arrived, and Bill and Mike’s cars were normally always in the lot. Bill gave Eddie a lift to school as the pair lived close to each other, but the rest of them lived too far away for Bill to come get them. No matter how much Stan wished he could, especially on days like today where the muggy heat plastered his hair to his head. Stan snapped out of his four-wheeled daydream and followed Richie inside the school. He, Richie and Bev had managed to get lockers next to one another this year whilst the others were scattered across the school, so their lockers were where they all met every morning before heading to classes.

They reached their lockers and Richie slumped against them with a thud. Richie barely used his own locker, he much preferred to dump stuff into Stan’s or Bev’s when his bag became too heavy, which he probably did just to annoy them. Stan didn’t mind anyway. Stan cautiously reached up to his lock but then paused, warily watching Richie from the corner of his eye. He _had_ been planning on stuffing the missing poster in his locker but he couldn’t, not with the way Richie was watching him so intently. It was almost like he knew Stan was trying to hide something. “Hey Stan!” he suddenly barked, causing Stan to quickly drop his arm and turn to face him, making a vague squeaking noise in response. “I know what you’re thinkin!” Stan tensed. “You’re thinkin that we’re all perfectly safe in this hallway, no risk of fires, but you’re wrong!” Stan let out a half relieved, half exasperated huff. It was just Richie doing his stupid Fire Marshall Bill impression. “Stan, lemme tell you somethin -” But Richie didn’t finish his sentence. Instead, Stan watched as Richie seemed to almost curl in on himself, his shoulders hunching over, and he turned his head slightly to face the lockers. Stan was about to ask what was wrong, but then from the corner of his vision he saw Brett Johnson walk past them with his friends, instantly recognising Brett from his brown leather jacket with its stupid skull patch on the arm. Stan couldn’t see if Johnson looked over to them, but he did see the blush creep up Richie’s neck. An unfamiliar feeling surged through Stan. He didn’t know how to describe it or what to do with it; it was almost like a feeling of protectiveness but spiked with something more jagged. He wouldn’t let Richie be intimidated like this. He waited a moment for them to get out of earshot, then gave Richie a wicked grin.

“Oh my god, can you like, chill your boner out?” he stage-whispered to Richie. He winced as soon as the words left his mouth, worried that Richie would think Stan wasn’t taking Johnson’s behaviour seriously. He had only said it as a joke, as a way to lighten the mood and not let Richie feel uncomfortable. But to his utter horror, Richie actually glanced down at himself. “Gross, I was kidding!” Stan hissed, “You mean there was actually risk of a boner?!” Richie couldn’t answer him through his laughter. 

“Who’s got a boner?” Bev’s voice asked, making Stan jump about a foot in the air.

“Fuck! Bev, why are you sneaking up on us?” he cried out.

“I didn’t sneak! Anyway, why are we talking about boners?”

“We’re not” Richie and Stan answered in unison, both looking awkward and guilty as hell.

“Ok then weirdos” she said with a laugh, and playfully shoved Richie out of the way of her locker. One by one the others arrived. A tired looking Bill came in with a nattering Eddie, who marched right up to them as soon as he saw Stan and Richie.

“Where the hell were you two this weekend?” he demanded and Richie predictably launched into a story about how he spent a romantic weekend with Eddie’s mom. Eddie cut him off with a not so light punch to the arm. “Whatever asshole. You sick or something?” Richie nodded and Eddie subtly moved further away from him. It made Stan feel kinda sorry for Eddie whenever he did something like that, knowing that it was another ridiculous fear his mother had instilled in him. “What about you?” he asked, turning to Stan.

“Temple” Stan quickly answered. Eddie nodded and the conversation moved on. No one asked him anymore about it, they all just accepted his easy lie. They all stood chatting for a while, but Stan wasn’t joining in much of the conversation. Instead, he couldn’t help but watch Richie, at the way he was animatedly talking with his hands, jokingly teased Ben, and laughed at something Mike said. If Stan hadn’t known then he would never have guessed there was anything different about Richie today. It was only subtle hints, like the way Richie’s eyes kept darting to and fro to avoid eye contact, or the way he kept chewing at his already gnawed lips. It made him wonder how often Richie had hid things from them all. From Stan. He had thought he was good at spotting when his friends were upset, but now he wondered how often any of them hid parts of themselves from the rest of them, things they didn’t want anyone to know. For a brief moment he wondered if maybe any of them ever felt like him, but dismissed the thought almost immediately, knowing it was impossible. He would know if any of the others were like him.

All too soon, it was time to go their separate ways for classes. The entire morning passed in a blur for Stan. He hadn’t paid any attention in history class, but he wasn’t too worried as he knew Ben would let Stan copy his notes. He had even found his mind wandering in maths, a class he usually enjoyed. He couldn’t stop himself though. He had woken up out of sorts again, just like he had on Saturday. He had a niggling worry worm in the pit of his stomach telling him that there was something he had missed, something important. He counted his steps on the way to biology class as a way of distracting himself, making sure to step forward an even amount of times on each foot. He sat down at his usual spot between Richie and Ben, getting in the way of their conversation. Whatever it was about, it was getting heated. Both Richie and Ben were gesturing with their hands, Ben even managed to hit Stan’s shoulder when Stan leaned over to carefully place his backpack down next to his chair. It was probably about some comic or something, Stan wasn’t really listening. As soon as he had sat down his eyes had started to track Mr Clarke as he organised his desk, then took out a stack of papers from his drawer. And then Stan remembered. _The test_. He had entirely forgotten about it. He hadn’t studied. Stan inhaled deeply. Then again. His breath came out shaky. This is ridiculous, he thought. You’re being ridiculous, it’s only a test. But he couldn’t stop the panicky feeling from spreading through him. By the time Mr Clarke ordered them all into silence and handed out the papers, Stan’s mind had narrowed to a single track of thought, repeating over and over that he hadn’t revised, he wouldn’t pass, it would lower his grade, and he would have to tell his parents that he had failed biology. He ground his teeth against his pencil, telling himself to calm down. Taking a few more deep breaths, he read through the questions again. He still couldn’t understand what the questions were asking, so he read through them a third time. He felt like the more he read them the worse he felt. _Albatross_ , he thought. _Blackbird, Cockatoo, Dove_. It was simple trick he had taught himself years ago, naming a bird for each letter of the alphabet, but it was effective. It was a distraction, a way to ease his panic. His moments of panic used to be worse, way worse, but Stan hadn’t had an episode in years now. By the time he got to Kingfisher he felt much better, and tried again. He still didn’t know the answers to the test, but it was multiple choice and he was at least able to fumble his way through it making best guesses. He didn’t look Mr Clarke in the eye as he handed in his test, already knowing that Mr Clarke would make an example of him come next Monday.

Mercifully, they had lunch next. The three of them went to the canteen together, and luckily Ben and Richie continued on with their debate leaving Stan unnoticed. He wasn’t in the mood to talk, too busy worrying whether his grade would affect his college applications. His mind was still churning when they reached their usual table where Eddie was already sat, and found he couldn’t keep up with their conversation even when he tried. He was too full of pent up anxiety. He bounced his leg under the table and slowly picked at his sandwiches, his appetite lost. The others didn’t notice anything was wrong, they were used to Stan being quieter and more reserved than them anyway.

“I’m just saying Ben, maybe Adrian brought it on himself.” Stan’s ears pricked up instantly as he overheard Eddie say that, and he automatically looked to Richie. Richie’s face was completely blank, devoid of any emotion at all. Stan looked away quickly, afraid of drawing any kind of attention to Richie. He didn’t know how the conversation had drifted this way, but he wanted to shift it to something else. He opened his mouth before he had even had a chance to think of something to say, intending to distract them, but Eddie started talking again.

“The news said he was going around trying to hit on random guys, he should have known something bad would happen to him if he shoved it in people’s faces.” Eddie continued, pissing Stan off more and more each second.

“So because he flirted he deserved to die?” Stan challenged, trying to keep his voice even. He had meant to say something completely off topic to distract them all, but he couldn’t help reacting to Eddie’s words.

“I didn’t say he deserved to die Stan, I just think he should have been more careful. And if he hadn’t chosen to be gay in the first place then it wouldn’t have happened.” Stan’s face contorted with disgust.

“He didn’t _choose_ to be anything Eddie. It’s not a choice, if it were then who the hell would voluntarily choose to be hated by most people? Who would actively choose to be regularly beaten just because of who they fancy? You’ve seen the news, people actually see ‘gay bashing’ as some kind of justified sport.”

“Well, he chose to flaunt it.”

“What if I was gay Eddie? Would you still be saying all this crap then?” Stan asked.

“You can’t be gay Stan. Jews aren’t gay” Eddie said dismissively.

Stan scoffed at him. “Right. Jews can’t be gay, and it’s also physically impossible for an anus to have a mouth. Yet here we are with you talking out of your ass, as usual.”

Eddie turned bright red and opened his mouth ready to make a comeback, but at that moment Bill dropped his tray on the table and pulled out the chair next to Stan. Eddie and Stan quickly looked at each other and came to a mutual silent agreement to drop it. It was rare that Bill got to have lunch with them anymore, and they weren’t going to make it uncomfortable for him with bickering. Bill was oblivious anyway, too busy devouring his food. In truth, Stan was surprised that Bill still chose to sit with them and spend the precious little free time he had with them. Bill had outgrown all of them really, he had been a member of the baseball team for years and had plenty of other friends. He wasn’t the most popular guy in school or anything, but no one was going to be tripping him up in the hallways anytime soon. Stan had been on the baseball team for a while too, but had found that all the testosterone and competitiveness had taken the fun right out of the game. Plus he hadn’t really fitted in with the team, he had always felt like the odd one out. And what with all the practices and games he had found that he hadn’t actually enjoyed spending time with any of his team mates, save Bill. So he had quit, and Bill had drifted further from his reach. Bill had never really understood why Stan quit, and Stan had never worked out how to explain it to him properly.

Richie abruptly stood from the table. “I’m going to go hang with Mike in the library” he said curtly and walked away, leaving the rest of them to look at each other in puzzlement. Mike spent every lunch break in the library doing his homework so that his afternoons were free to help at the farm. It also meant he would be more likely to be able to spend time with them at least one day of the weekend. Richie had never once voluntarily given up his lunch break to study.

“I need to study too” Stan said, grabbing his bag to rush after Richie. As he stood from the table he was met by Bev, who laughed and asked if it was something she had said. Stan grinned sheepishly at her and waved a goodbye, then began fighting his way through the crowded canteen. He caught up to Richie quickly and grabbed for his arm, but Richie shrugged him away, not breaking his stride. Stan jerked his hand back. He had assumed that Richie had left so abruptly because he was angry with Eddie, but this seemed more like Richie was angry with _him_. Stan followed Richie through the hallway, walking directly behind him. They were walking in the opposite direction to the library and it didn’t seem like Richie had any clear destination in mind, he just seemed intent on marching his way through the school. As soon as they neared the narrow staircase leading to the language classrooms, Stan pulled Richie under the stairwell where they were partially hidden from view. “What’s wrong?” he asked with concern.

“For fucks sake Stan stop asking if I’m alright or asking what’s wrong. You _know_ what’s wrong.”

“Is it Eddie?”

“It’s not Eddie.” Richie said, but he was avoiding looking at Stan.

“Look, Richie, he’s your best friend. He wouldn’t say that shit if he knew” Stan began, thinking that he could cheer Richie up, but he stopped when he saw the angry look on Richie’s face.

“It wasn’t Eddie, Stan. It was you!”

Stan was dumbstruck. “ _Me_? What the hell did I do?” Richie only glared at him. “I didn’t do anything wrong, I stuck up for you. I don’t know how you could just sit there while he said all that, it must have pissed you off too.”

Richie shrugged, trying to look like he didn’t care. “I’m used to it.”

“But this time was different!”

“Why?” Richie asked, looking genuinely puzzled. “It’s not anything he hasn’t said before. The only reason you were bothered by it this time is because you know about me”. Stan opened and closed his mouth a few times, but he had nothing to say to that. It was the truth, and it made him feel ashamed.

“He wouldn’t say it if he knew” he repeated.

Richie gave another shrug in response. “Maybe.”

Stan fiddled with the strap on his bag. “I’m sorry” he said. There was nothing else he could say. He was looking down at the floor but he could feel Richie’s eyes on him, studying him.

“I know you mean well Stan, but please don’t try and stick up for me again. It felt horrible, like somehow everyone would somehow _know_ if I stayed there any longer. It’s not your job to stand up for me, it’s mine. And I’ll decide where and when I pick my battles.” Stan looked back up again and nodded to show he understood what Richie was saying. Richie sighed and scratched at the back of his head. He offered Stan a sad kind of smile. “Well, we’ll look a bit weird if we go back to the canteen now. And there’s not a chance in hell I’m actually going to go the library. Wana go hang in the courtyard?” Stan nodded again and followed Richie out of the stairwell.

They had only gone a few steps when Stan was yanked backwards, the force making him loose his balance. He grabbed at Richie’s backpack in an attempt to stay upright, but only succeeded in taking Richie down with him. His bag was pulled from his back roughly and Stan rolled over to see the face of Craig Smith sneering down at him. Stan scrambled to get back onto his feet as Craig upended his bag, the contents spilling over the floor. But that wasn’t what concerned him. He was more worried about the fact that Craig was standing next to Johnson, who had similarly emptied Richie’s bag. But it was the way Johnson was looking at Richie with a sneering smile, challenging Richie to do something back, which had Stan’s stomach twisting into knots. “What the fuck?!” Stan cried and shoved uselessly at Craig, who was considerably taller and bulkier than him, in an attempt to distract the pair from Richie. Craig grabbed Stan’s arm before he had a chance to pull it back, and twisted it painfully.

“What’s this?” Johnson asked in a low voice. Stan looked to see that he was crouched to the floor, holding Adrian’s missing poster in his hand. Stan gulped nervously, knowing this wasn’t something Johnson was going to let slide.

“The fuck Uris, why do you have that in your bag?” Craig laughed, but Brett didn’t join in. He stood slowly, and gestured to Stan with the paper.

“Go ahead Uris. Take your picture back.” Stan made no move. If he tried to take the paper there was no way of predicting what Johnson would do, plus Craig still had a firm hold of his wrist and was more likely to snap it then let Stan go. “Strange thing to carry around with you. You missing your boyfriend or something?” Craig laughed but Brett didn’t. He looked deadly serious, and Stan didn’t miss the way his eyes flicked to Richie when he said the word boyfriend.

“It’s mine. It’s from my bag.” Richie blurted out. Johnson turned to him and held the poster above his head.

“You saying Adrian’s _yours_ , Richie?” he challenged.

“I took it down to stick it in the trash, it no use having it up anymore. I forgot it was in my bag.”

Johnson stared at Richie with a dangerous smile. “Shame what happened to your boyfriend Richie. But, then again, what do you expect?” he sneered. Craig laughed again, and Stan managed to wrench his arm free.

“Fuck off” Stan snarled at them, making them both laugh. They left, but not before pushing Richie roughly into the wall. Stan was certain they would have done more, but there was a teacher making her way towards them down the corridor. Stan and Richie quickly picked up all their belongings and stuffed them back into their bags. They waved the teacher away, insisting they were fine. Stan would never dream of actually telling a teacher, or his parents, about what happened. What kind of seventeen year old still gets picked on in the school hallways?

Richie was still holding the poster, and as Stan turned towards him Richie gestured to it with raised eyebrows. “Ah. I uhh, I took it down this morning. I didn’t want you to have to see it.”

“Right” Richie answered, chewing his lip, “thanks.” Stan nodded and made to walk down the corridor, but Richie grabbed his arm to stop him. “Uhh, Stan? I need to talk to you about something. After school. It’s, like, super serious though so get your listening ears ready.” Richie said it in a joking tone and gave a short laugh, but he didn’t look at Stan in the eye and was still chewing his lip. Stan had a hunch it was going to be genuinely serious, and he paled.

“Is this going to be like another grown up conversation?” he asked.

Richie stared at him blankly. “What the fuck is a grown up conversation?”

“You know, like when adults talk about grown up things”

“Stan we’re seventeen not seven years old. We’re old enough to talk like the grown-ups”. In all honesty, Stan felt drained. He had spent the whole weekend with Richie and it had been pretty heavy, and people often exhausted Stan at the best of times. He didn’t know if he was ready for any more drama, but he smiled and agreed to go to Richie’s house after school anyway, because it was Richie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eddie fans, dont worry! I know he comes across as a bit unlikeable in this chapter, but it will be fine I promise.


	7. Chapter 7

Fizzgig squeaked happily as Stan fed him a small piece of carrot. The little ginger ball of fluff was contentedly sitting in Stan’s hand, his whiskers tickling his palm as he ate. Stan affectionately petted him on the head for a while before carefully handing him back to Richie, who popped him on his shoulder. They had been in Richie’s room for about an hour now, talking about everything and nothing. Richie had not brought up whatever it was that he needed to tell him, and Stan hadn’t brought it up either. He didn’t like to admit it, but he was actually quite nervous about what Richie’s next bombshell could be.

As though he knew that Stan was thinking about it, Richie spoke up. “So, I wanted to ask you something.”

Stan shifted so that he could sit cross legged on the bed, facing Richie. “Ok, spill.”

“You were talking about moving out and college the other day -“

“Oh great! Have you changed your mind?” Stan excitedly interrupted.

“What? No, that’s not what I –“

“But why?” Stan whined. He just couldn’t comprehend why Richie wasn’t interested in college.

“I can’t stand school”

“But you get really good grades! And besides, college will be different –“

“Yeah, yeah I’ve heard it all from the guidance councillor already. ‘College is grown up, college lets you explore who you are, blah blah blah’. Well I don’t see why I have to pay to do all that exploring when I could be earning my own money. Why would I wait another couple of years to get a job when I can get one now?”

“Because with a college degree you can get a better job” Stan recited.

“I don’t need a college degree for my dream job” Richie muttered, looking away from Stan.

“Oh. What’s your dream job?” Stan asked. It had only just dawned on him that he had no idea what Richie wanted to do for a living, he had never spoken about it. Richie didn’t answer him straight away, he picked at his bed cover for a while, a blush creeping up his neck.

“It’s a male prostitute isn’t it? Its ok, you don’t need to be embarrassed.”

“Shut up Stan!” Richie laughed and playfully pushed at his shoulder. He was quiet for another moment, then gave Stan a small smile. “Ok fine I’ll tell you. But I’ve never told anyone this before, so you can’t laugh ok?” Stan nodded eagerly while Richie took a deep breath, “I want to work in entertainment. I just want to make people laugh.”

Stan felt like he should be surprised at Richie’s confession, but strangely found that he wasn’t. Everyone had pipe dreams, but Stan could tell from the sheepish way Richie was watching for Stan’s reaction that this was something that he desperately wanted, something he was going to actively strive for. Stan’s first instinct was to disagree. He opened his mouth to tell Richie that he should be practical and go to college, but the words never left his mouth. He remembered his parents saying something very similar to him not so long ago, when Stan had had dreams of being a nature photographer. He realised that by trying to push Richie into choosing college he would be speaking with his parents’ voices rather than his own. So he closed his mouth right back up and smiled instead. “You want to make people laugh for a living but tell me _not_ to laugh? That will be a short career” He joked, and Richie’s whole face lit up. Stan wanted to know more, but Richie began talking again.

“You’re going to college though. And I was wondering, well. I mean, it was just an idea really….you’re applying for some city colleges, right?”

“Yeah, a few.”

“Right. And you would be in a dorm room that you would share with a stranger.”

Stan shifted uncomfortably. That was the only part of college he wasn’t looking forward to. He wasn’t very good at making friends, and potentially he would be forced to spend a lot of time with his roommate. He hadn’t quite worked out how he would keep certain parts of himself secret whilst sharing a room, and whenever he thought about it he began to feel a familiar weight of anxiety and hopelessness rise from his chest. He tried not to think of it, certain he would have time to figure it out before moving. It wasn’t just his obsession with checking the door was locked or having to have his room straight and neat which worried him. It was the moments when it all became too much and the only thing Stan could do was wrap himself up into a tight ball under the duvet. There was only so many times Stan could tell a roommate that he was ‘just tired’ before the roommate decided he was a freak who he wouldn’t want anything to do with.

Fizzgig gave a squeak from Ritchie’s shoulder so Stan reached into the bowl between them to pick out another piece of carrot. Ritchie chewed his lip and watched the movement of Stan’s arm as he brought it forward to feed Fizzgig.

“Can I come with you?” Ritchie asked softly. Stan leaned back in surprise and saw the vulnerable expression on Ritchie’s face, clearly afraid that Stan would say no. “I know you’ve probably planned to do the whole college experience thing properly, but I was thinking. What if me and you moved somewhere together?” Ritchie rushed on, “We could rent a two bed apartment or something. It wouldn’t be the same as being in a college dorm, but you would have more space in an apartment. Even a little studio apartment would be better than a tiny dorm room. Plus I’ll be working full time and you could work part time or something, so we could probably afford to rent something half decent. No cockroaches or anything.”

Stan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Richie, offering to move with Stan. Saving Stan from the nightmare of sharing his space with a stranger. His heartbeat quickened at the thought that he wouldn’t have to be alone, but he reined himself in quickly. Stan was certain that Ritchie would much rather be with any of the other Losers rather than him.

“Are you sure?” Stan asked hesitantly. “Have you asked Bill? Or Eddie?”

“Are you crazy? Can you imagine actually _living_ with Eddie?” Richie laughed.

“What about Bill? Wouldn’t you rather live with someone who was less…” Stan trailed off, not knowing how to explain he meant someone less like himself. As he searched for the right words, he saw the way Richie’s shoulders sagged.

“It’s ok Stan. You can just say you don’t want me to move with you. I would probably muck up all your stuff and get in the way anyway.”

“No! I would love to live with you!” Stan coughed quickly, trying to hide how eager his voice had sounded. “I mean, it would be fun” he added, making sure to lower his tone. Ritchie beamed at him. After a few moments of thought, Stan spoke again. “We should pick somewhere with a big gay scene.”

Now it was Ritchie’s turn to look surprised, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead. “Are you sure? I don’t really mind you know, I’ll just go wherever you choose.”

“I can study anywhere, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that we live somewhere where you won’t have to hide, somewhere where you can stretch your little gay flirty wings” Stan teased, but Ritchie didn’t react. He looked lost in thought.

“Huh” was all he said, talking out loud.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. It’s just, well…I’ve just never thought about that properly before. About actually moving somewhere where I could do that. And I’ve just realised that I have no idea what to do - I mean, _can_ men flirt? I’ve never seen a guy even complement another guy, so I wonder how they do it. Is there a code?” he paused. “Shit, Stan do you think there’s a code?”

“Probably not” Stan reasoned.

“But what if there is and I don’t know it?”

Stan rolled his eyes. “If there _is_ a code then I doubt it would be very subtle, not if men came up with it. Just be your normal flirty self, that should do the trick.”

“I don’t know how to flirt” Ritchie replied quietly. He crossed his legs under him and pushed his face forward so he could rest his chin on his fist. Fizzgig wobbled dangerously on his shoulder.

Stan frowned over at him. “You’re always flirting, you say weird flirty stuff to us all the time.” Stan reached forward and carefully removed Fizzgig from Ritchie’s shoulder, back into the safety of his own hand. 

“Yeah but I’m never actually being serious though. I mostly say all that just to make you all laugh, so that doesn’t count. I wouldn’t be able to flirt when it actually mattered. I wouldn’t be able to do it in a way that makes someone actually like me.”

Stan doubted that. He had suspicions that Ritchie still thought of himself as the gangly kid with the buck teeth and acne, but objectively Stan knew that Ritchie had a lot going for him. He had a nice face which always creased up in delight when he laughed, and he was tall when he wasn’t hunched in on himself. Stan thought that if Richie used even half the flirty stuff he said to them on a stranger, then Richie shouldn’t have a problem. Of course, he couldn’t say any of that out loud though, so instead he just shrugged. “Guess you’ll have to learn the code then” he teased.

Richie threw himself backwards onto the bed dramatically, with an over exaggerated sigh. “Ugh. I wish there was a book or something. Anything. I feel like I don’t have a clue.”

“Well, being clueless could be part of your charm” Stan reasoned, distractedly smiling at Fizzgig and petting his head.

“Huh?”

“You know, like when some girls flirt with guys they sometimes play a bit dumb? Maybe that can be your thing”. Richie scrunched up his nose, clearly not liking the idea much.

“How would you do it?” Richie asked, turning his head to face Stan. Stan snorted at Richie’s earnest expression, realising Richie was being serious.

“I couldn’t flirt to save my life.”

Ritchie chuckled. “Yeah, actually now that I think of it I can’t imagine you ever flirting.” They both cracked up laughing. “Seriously though. Aren’t you curious at all? About flirting? Or kissing?” Ritchie asked once he had stopped.

“I guess.” Stan said evasively. He had never had a crush so it wasn’t something he spent any time thinking about. He spent so much time worrying whether there was something wrong with him for never having fancied someone that he never got round to thinking about the actual practicalities of dating.

“Well I am” Richie said. They were both quiet for a while. Stan plopped Fizzgig down on the bed and they both watched as he began cleaning his face.

“Remember what Mike said at the Barrens?” Richie’s asked in a small voice, “that no one would ever kiss him?” Stan’s heart pinched a little at that, reminding him of how different it was to be Mike. “Well it’s kinda the same for me. No one here is ever going to like me, or see me the way I see them. I’ll die of old age before I get my first kiss here.” Stan wasn’t sure what to say, they both knew Richie was right. No one in this town would ever come out as gay. It was dangerous to even look at another boy in the wrong way let alone risk getting caught kissing. There would be another murder. Stan’s breath caught in his throat when he thought of that, of Richie ever risking kissing someone here.

“No, you won’t kiss anyone while you’re in Derry. But you never know Richie. There could be another guy, maybe in the next town over or the next _next_ one over, who is sitting on his bed right now thinking the exact same thing. You’re not alone” Richie just looked glum. “And then once you’re in a city you can kiss as many people as you want.” Stan continued, thinking it would cheer Richie up.

“Those city boys will be all experienced, and I’ll just be standing there not knowing what the fuck I’m doing.”

“I don’t think it’s all that hard, I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it.”

“Yeah but I want to be _good_ at it. I don’t want to just be some country hick who uses too much tongue or something.”

“So then don’t use your tongue.” Stan quipped, leaning closer to him to feed Fizzgig the last piece of food. 

“But I’m supposed to use my tongue.” Stan’s face screwed up in mild disgust. How anyone could enjoy having someone else’s tongue swishing around inside their mouth was a complete mystery to him.

“You’ll have to find another country hick who’s just moved to the city and doesn’t know how to kiss.”

“Chances are slim Stanley. I think the only making out I’ll be doing is with some random sleaze down an alley. He’ll be older and wiser and he’ll take one look at me and know I’m easy prey.”

Stan finished petting Fizzgig and leaned back so he could look at Richie with a frown. “ _Or_ , you could go out and meet some handsome stranger in a gay bar.”

Ritchie screwed up his face again. “No thank you, I’ll pass.” Something in his expression made Stan pause; it was an expression he had never seen on Ritchie’s face before.

“Why do you say it like that?” he cautiously asked.

“Say what?”

“I dunno, you just seem a bit negative. Like the thought of a gay bar disgusts you or something.”

“Well…yeah I guess they do.” Stan stared at him in disbelief. “Well, they’re seedy aren’t they? It’s where the perverts go.”

Stan paused for a moment, trying to work out what to say to that. “What do you mean, the perverts?”

“Well that’s the sort that go to gay bars isn’t it?”

“How would either of us know what type of people go to gay bars?” Stan argued. “Who told you that?”

“No one. That’s just what everyone else says, everyone knows that’s what they’re like.”

“Everyone else being straight people who hate gays and blacks?” Stan shoots back. Richie didn’t say anything. Stan huffed. “No one from Derry _knows_ what they’re like. Maybe they’re seedy, maybe they’re not. How would we know? I reckon people _know_ about gay bars the same way they _know_ all gay people are perverts. They’ve never met a gay person in their life but they believe all the crap about them because they never stop to think for themselves.”

Richie hauled himself back up so he could sit facing Stan. “Ok then, let’s just imagine this for a second. Imagine that I stroll into a gay bar and see someone I like. Then what? I don’t want my first kiss to be with some drunk who just wants to get off. I don’t want that to be me, to be so desperate for some fucking human contact that I let some random guy just use me for whatever he wants.”

Stan rolled his eyes so hard it physically hurt. “Stop being so dramatic. That’s not going to happen to you if you don’t want it. Besides, you’ve lied plenty of times about getting off with random girls at parties, what’s so different about getting off with a random guy?”

“Because it would be real. If I go into some alleyway with some random guy it makes it seem so dirty, so disgusting. It’s not fair! Everyone else gets to have their firsts be special, have them mean something. I have to have mine with shame and guilt and secrets. It makes it disgusting, makes me feel like _I’m_ disgusting. Like some kind of deviant.” Stan didn’t know what to say to that. He thought of how upset Richie had been when he confessed. Stan had assumed that Richie was upset because he was scared of being attacked. Stan also remembered what Richie had said the previous day, that he was trying to be better. He had thought Richie meant being better at talking about his feelings, but now he wasn’t so sure. He realised now that this could be how Ritchie really saw himself, how he saw other gay men. He saw it as being _wrong_.

He reached out tentatively, and gently took hold of Ritchie’s wrist. Richie gave a nervous laugh. “Are you trying to hold my hand?”

“No. I’m showing you that I wouldn’t touch you if you were really that kind of person. You’re _good_ Richie, you’re a good person and being gay won’t make you a bad person, or disgusting. You’re just a normal person who happens to think Michael Anthony Hall is hot.”

“Oh my god would you get over the Michael Anthony Hall thing already?” Richie laughed.

Stan ignored Richie and pressed on. “You’re the same loser you’ve always been and being gay hasn’t changed the way I think of you. Being gay isn’t a personality trait, you’re not suddenly some kind of sexual deviant just because you fancy men.” Stan insisted. Richie frowned and tried to pull his hand away, but Stan didn’t let go.

“Stan, how comes your so calm about all this? Even when I first told you, you were so chill. You don’t have a problem with it at all”

Stan glared at him, annoyed that Richie was even asking. He should _know_ that Stan was his best friend, no matter what. “Do you think Jews are disgusting?” he shot back at Ritchie.

“What??”

“Do you think all Jews are disgusting?”

“Of course not! What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

“Because it wasn’t so long ago that a lot of people hated Jews and told a load of crap about them to try and make everyone else hate them too. Before that it was black people, and before that it was Native Americans. There’s always _someone_. Homosexuals are hated right now, but I honestly think that in another fifty years’ time someone else will take your place.” Although that thought made Stan feel saddened, he honestly believed it was the truth. 

Richie opened his mouth to say something, but at that moment Mrs Tozier knocked and came into the bedroom. Stan hastily let go of Richie’s wrist and they both jumped back from each other. Stan hadn’t realised how close they had been leaning towards each other.

“Hello Stan” She said brightly, oblivious to their red faces. “I just wanted to check if you were staying for dinner?” Stan agreed to stay without hesitating, however soon regretted it when he used the Tozier’s phone to call his mother.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Richie the past few days. You shouldn’t outstay your welcome Stan, I’m sure they don’t want to have to cook for you all week. They’ll start wondering why you don’t like eating at home.”

“Sorry mom, we have a school project and we got carried away with the time. The Tozier’s don’t mind me being here.”

“Stanley, your father and I are beginning to forget what you look like.”

The conversation went on like this. His mother’s tone was light but Stan knew better. His parents had a lot of rules and expectations, which Stan had never broken before. He knew he was pushing his luck by ignoring her request for him to come home, but right now he felt like it would be worth the risk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are slowly getting there! I'm hoping to have another chapter up by the weekend :)


	8. Chapter 8

Although it went against his parents’ wishes, Stan was spending an increasing amount of time with Richie. They would spend all day at school together then go to one or the others houses to do homework and just hang out. Stan had laughed more in the past week than he had in the past month, but now he felt a pang of guilt as he walked through the school corridor with Ben. Their history project, which they were meant to be working on together, was due Tuesday and so far Ben had planned the whole thing by himself as Stan had been too distracted by Richie to help.

“I know you were busy last weekend with your Temple stuff, but could you ask your parents if you can stay home tomorrow? We’ve only got this weekend to do it” Ben said as they walked with the sea of other pupils. Stan flinched at being reminded of his lie. He had skipped Temple last week and knew he wouldn’t be able to get out of it this week. He didn’t want the Rabbi to start asking his parents awkward questions about Stan. Ben didn’t notice his discomfort though as he was walking with his history text book open, flicking through the pages and showing Stan the various stick-it-notes he had placed in there filled with ideas.

“Sorry, I’ll have to go.” Stan answered. “But I’ll get my parents to drop me at your house straight after.” he promised.

Suddenly Stan was pushed into Ben roughly, knocking the heavy textbook to the floor as Johnson strode past and shoved Stan out of his way. Stan bent to pick it back up and as he straightened he spotted Eddie further up the corridor putting books into his locker, completely unaware Johnson was directly behind him. Stan winced as he watched Johnson push him roughly, knocking Eddie’s head into the locker door. “Watch it, queerboy” he snarled as he walked past.

Stan’s stomach plummeted even further as he recognised Richie’s voice from somewhere in the corridor shout out “watch it asshole!”

The whole corridor seemed to halt as Johnson slowly turned back around and the crowd parted to reveal Richie standing a few feet from Eddie. Stan found his feet carry him forward as Johnson rounded on Richie, grabbing him by his shirt. Before Johnson had time to swing a fist, Stan swung Ben’s textbook into the side of his head with a satisfying _thunk_. Stan had put his full body weight into the swing, so the force of it knocked Johnson to the floor.

“Holy shit!” he heard Richie cry out, but he was too busy watching Johnson. He was groggily getting back to his feet, clutching his head. Before any of them had time to react to what had just happened, Mr Clarke came marching over to them. He roughly pulled Johnson fully to his feet and angrily pointed at Stan, Richie and Eddie.

“You three! With me!” he barked and they followed him without question. As they left the shocked corridor Stan heard Ben cry out an incredulous “Stan the _man_!” but he didn’t dare look back.

Mr Clarke dumped Johnson off at the nurse’s station before herding them away, but not before Stan caught the murderous glare Johnson sent his way. Stan felt slightly faint, knowing that Johnson was going to get back at him sooner rather than later. Mr Clarke took them to the principal’s office and told them to sit in silence while he went into the office alone. No sooner had the door closed then Eddie excitedly turned to face Stan.

“Holy shit, that was awesome!” he whispered, “The whole school is gonna be talking about this by the time we leave this room, you’ll be the school hero!” Eddie regarded Stan with a look of awe on his face. Richie, however, looked furious.

“Are you fucking stupid?” Richie growled. “What were you _thinking_? You just humiliated Johnson in front of the whole school! He’s going to come after you.” Stan shrugged like the thought didn’t terrify him.

“I _didn’t_ think. I just wanted to do something to help, I didn’t think I would be able to knock him down!” Stan argued, causing Richie to groan.

“It was awesome!” Eddie hissed at Richie, who folded his arms and stayed silent. None of them got the chance to say anything further, as the door to the principal’s office swung open and the three of them trudged inside.

“Eddie didn’t do anything, he was just standing there.” Richie said straight away, before the door had even closed behind them. The principle didn’t answer, instead he regarded them with pursed lips. Stan coughed and carefully kept his eyes trained on the desk in front of him, keeping his face neutral. Stan watched the principal narrow his eyes at Eddie, who shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, then glance at Mr Clarke who was stood behind them. The principle looked back to Eddie with a frown and appeared to be having a mental argument with himself.

“Very well” he said eventually. “Edward, you may leave.” Eddie quickly scurried out of the room and left them in silence once more. “Please explain yourself Mr Uris.”

“Brett had just pushed Eddie into a locker door and was about to hit Richie. I stopped him.” Stan said, his tone curt.

“I thought Edward wasn’t involved in this?”

“He wasn’t.” Richie answered quickly. “He was just standing there. A wrong place wrong time kinda thing.”

“Richie and Eddie were _both_ just standing there, they didn’t do anything wrong but Brett wanted to hurt them anyway. You must have seen the red mark on Eddie’s forehead from the locker door. Brett is a bully, everyone knows it.” Stan said, trying to keep his voice even despite the anger rising in him.

“We are well aware of the behaviour of Brett Johnson.”

“Then why don’t you ever do anything about it?” Stan spat out, shocking himself. He _never_ spoke to teachers this way, let alone the principle.

“We are not here to discuss his behaviour Stanley, we are here to discuss _yours_.” Mr Clarke spoke up from behind them.

“I wouldn’t have had to do anything if Brett hadn’t been about to punch Richie for no reason.” Stan pointed out. “I was just trying to stop him from attacking them.”

“I see. And does this type of behaviour happen often?”

“I’ve never hit anyone before, sir” Stan defended himself.

“I was referring to Brett.”

Stan remained silent. This was Richie’s opportunity to tell them what Johnson was doing, it was Richie’s choice. “Are we getting detention sir?” Richie asked instead of answering. It didn’t surprise Stan that Richie choose to remain silent, he could understand the risk of Johnson opening his mouth was too great to take.

The principal regarded them for a moment then let out a long, disappointed sigh. “Not this time Richard. Stanley, you have always been a model student so in light of this you will get a second chance, but I will not tolerate this kind of behaviour.” Stan ground his teeth in order to not answer back, thinking of how the school had tolerated Johnson’s behaviour for years. “However” the principal continued, “I will be contacting both of your parents boys.” _Oh, fuck_ was Stan’s only thought.

They left the office with Stan still feeling slightly dazed. He could tell from the look on Richie’s face that he was still angry with Stan, but Stan was angrier. “What the hell was that?” he spat at Richie.

“What?” Richie spat back.

“Well you were sure quick to jump to Eddie’s defence, but you didn’t say a word to help me!”

“You were doing fine on your own” Richie said dismissively.

“Would have been nice to have some back up though.” Stan grumbled. He wasn’t exactly sure why this had affected him so much, but Richie’s quick defence of Eddie was really grating on him.

Richie raised a brow at Stan. “Are you serious right now?” he asked. Stan rolled his eyes with a huff and began walking away from Richie. “Hey, wait!” Richie called after him and Stan paused. “I wasn’t stopping Eddie from getting into trouble at school Stan, I was protecting him from his mom. Remember that time Patrick Hockstetter stuck a load of dead flies in Eddie’s backpack? Remember the scene his mom caused when she came into school the next day? It made everything ten times worse for Eddie.” Stan didn’t say anything, but his anger was deflating fast. “And if Eddie got in trouble for fighting, his mom would have a meltdown. Eddie would end up in A+E, and she’d turn up at school shouting and screaming. Plus, she would blame _us_ for Eddie getting in trouble.” Richie continued, gesturing between the two of them. “She would do everything she can to stop Eddie seeing the two of us ever again.”

Stan fiddled with the strap on his bag. “You’re right. I’m sorry” he said.

“Don’t be, your jealousy is adorable” Richie joked with a wink.

“I wasn’t _jealous_!” Stan protested. Richie burst out laughing and the pair walked to class.

***

Eddie had been right, Stan was now the school hero. He couldn’t enjoy a moment of it though, as he spent the rest of the day dreading going home. Sure enough, as soon as he walked through his front door his parents called out to him from the kitchen, asking him to join them at the table for a discussion. Stan curled his hands into fists and let out a frustrated little groan before joining them. He knew how this was going to go. He had many _discussions_ with his parents. If his grades slipped, they would discuss it. If he looked too glum it was discussed. If he seemed too angsty he was pulled up on it straight away and told to stop feeling sorry for himself. They called it a discussion but Stan had never been the one discussing anything, it was always his parents _telling_ him what he had done wrong and how he should fix it. Stan never got a say in any of it.

He explained what had happened at school as best as he could. His parents didn’t react much, but their faces showed how disappointed they were. His father spoke first. “Well, it goes without saying that you are grounded this weekend Stanley. You will come to Temple with us and then straight home, you won’t be seeing your friends this weekend.”

Stan lowered his gaze to the table and nodded mutely. He had expected as much. But then he remembered something, and his head shot back up. “Wait, I can’t!” he protested. “I have to meet Ben for our history project.” His parents remained unmoved. “Please. Its due in on Tuesday, we only have this weekend to work on it” Stan added, his voice becoming desperate.

His mother looked angry. “Why have you left it so late to work on it?”

“I haven’t had a chance to start it, I’ve had so much other homework this week. Richie has been helping me with it all.” Stan watches as his parents exchange uneasy glances, then turn back to Stan.

“You can call Ben tonight and ask him to come here after service tomorrow. You can work on the project in the kitchen, I’ll clear the table and you’ll have plenty of room. As soon as it’s done Ben will leave. Is that understood?” his mother asked in a stern tone and Stan nodded again. His parents exchanged another glance before his mother began speaking again. “Stan….I think we should discuss the amount of time you have been spending with Richie recently.” Stan glanced between his parents, confused.

“Why?” he asked. His tone had been defensive and he saw them frown at him. He quickly sat up straighter in his chair and kept his face neutral in order to appease them.

His father ran his hand down his face and looked at Stan with a concerned expression. “Stan, I know it seems impossible to you right now, but someday you’re going to be old. You need to be able to look back on your life and know that you lived it right, and be proud of the decisions you made. I want you be able to look back and know that you had a good life, that you were true and honest. So you need to think about what you want to do and where you want your life to take you. And you need to think carefully about who you want to be a part of your life.”

Stan stared back at his father blankly for a few moments, not really understanding. “Do you mean - wait, are you talking about Richie?” he asked, bewildered.

“Richie is….an odd boy” his mother chimed in.

“No he’s not” Stan argued. “There’s nothing odd about him.” His parents didn’t say any more, but he didn’t miss the uneasy look which passed between them.

As Stan went up to his room, he began to wonder. Did his parents know something? Maybe it was a parent thing, that they examined the friends their children made in a different way and were just more aware of things. Stan’s mind churned as he replayed his parents’ words over and over in his head. What if they _knew_? And then an even worse thought struck Stan. If his parents _did_ know about Richie, and Johnson knows as well, then how much longer would it be before other people began to notice?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did another two chapters this week!


	9. Chapter 9

Stan had continued worrying the entire way through service the next morning. He hadn’t listened to a word the Rabbi said, his mind far away whirling with too many thoughts and replaying what his parents had said to him the day before. He had unconsciously bounced his leg up and down the entire time he was there, and had been unable to stop himself no matter how many times his mother nudged him or gave him _the look_. By the time Stan returned home from Temple, he had reached a firm decision. It was time for him to do what was right.

“Hey, mom?” he tentatively asked as soon as they stepped through the front door, not having even taken off his raincoat yet. His mother didn’t answer, but Stan knew she was listening. Stan’s stomach was already twisted into nervous knots which helped make his voice came out timid and humble. “Mom, I have to go to Richie’s quickly, before Ben gets here.” Both his mother and father turn to look at him, frowning. “I left my history workbook there on Thursday” he continued, “It has all my notes for mine and Ben’s project in it. We can’t work on it without those notes.”

His parents glance at each other and his father lets out a disappointed sigh. They have a silent discussion between the two of them and then his mother glanced at the clock on the wall beside them, which showed it had just gone past 1.15pm. “Fine, you can go get the book. But Stan, grounded means grounded. You will not be staying to chat with Richie. You are to be back here by no later than half past, understand?” Stan nodded eagerly, and rushed back out the front door to grab his bike.

The sky was the same dull grey as the road, and the two blended together into a wet and gloomy landscape as Stan cycled through the drizzle. His father always called days like today ‘grizzle days’. Stan cycled faster and the wind pulled the hood of his coat down so that within seconds his hair was plastered to his head. He calculated as he pedalled, knowing that Richie lived a block away so he would get roughly eight or nine minutes at Richie’s house before he had to leave and come back again. _It should be enough time_ , he thought, but cycled even faster just in case.

He was panting when he arrived at Richie’s front door, and he knocked frantically. Richie’s face broke into a grin as he opened the door. “Stan! I was hoping you would come by today, come in!” Stan quietly followed him through to the living room, not trusting himself to say anything just yet. His mouth was dry and his nerves made it feel like something was wriggling inside his stomach. Richie flopped down on the sofa and moved his book to the side so that Stan could sit next to him. Stan saw it was one of the Choose Your Own Adventure books Richie loved so much and never let Stan borrow, because he always cheated and looked at the next page which annoyed Richie. _Nerd_ , he thought fondly, and snorted. He didn’t know why he suddenly found it funny, but it helped settle his nerves a bit. It reminded him that no matter what happened next, this was _Richie_.

“Are you parents’ home?” Stan asked, looking around as though one of them would suddenly pop up from behind the door.

Richie shook his head. “They’re out with Emma somewhere.”

“Did you get in trouble yesterday?” Stan asked. He didn’t sit beside Richie, instead he stood rigid and nervously bit at the skin around his thumb nail.

“Why would I get in trouble?” Richie asked with a puzzled expression. “I stuck up for a friend, why would my parents be mad at me for that?” Stan stopped biting at his thumb, wondering why his parents hadn’t thought of it like that. “Hey, you fancy some ice cream? I’ve been thinking about ice cream all morning but we don’t have any in the house” Richie added, interrupting Stan’s thoughts. He shook himself, reminding himself of the short time limit he had.

“Listen, I only have a few minutes and I need to tell you–“

“We could go into town and get some from the diner if you’re up for it?” Richie interrupted.

“Richie shut up a sec I need to tell you- actually ice cream does sound great” Stan interrupted himself. “I can’t today though, Ben’s coming to mine to do the history project.”

“Tomorrow?”

“I’m cant, I’m grounded. I had to lie so I could come here” Stan sighed. “We could go next Saturday though?” he added, seeing Richie’s disappointed expression.

“Great!”

“Great!” Stan echoed as he smiled at Richie, momentarily distracted by Richie’s enthusiastic face. He shook himself out of his daze. “I need to tell you something and you need to just sit and listen until I finish ok?” Richie nodded and didn’t say anything else. Stan nervously wrung his hands, wondering where to begin.

“Listen, my parents said something to me last night which really made me think.”

“Did it hurt?” Richie laughed and Stan glowered at him in frustration. Richie schooled his face back into a serious expression. “Sorry. Please continue.”

“They were talking about how I should be able to grow up and be proud of the choices I made. They said I should be true and honest with myself. So, I need to be honest and tell you three things. Firstly, I wanted to say I’m sorry. I promised that I wouldn’t treat you any differently now that I know your secret, but I have. I’ve been walking on eggshells all week long, second guessing everything I say or do, because I’m scared I’ll say something stupid or something that will offend you. But I know you know that I would never intentionally say something to hurt you, so from now on I promise to go back to exactly how I was before. If I say something ignorant just tell me and I promise to learn.”

“Ok” Richie nodded from where he sat on the sofa. All traces of laughter were gone from his face as he had realised how serious Stan was being. His intense gaze made Stan fidget. He swallowed thickly. 

“Second, I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said Monday. About how you said you and Mike were similar, and how you don’t want your first kiss to be with a random person you don’t know.” Stan took a steadying breath before he spoke again. “Well, Mike and Bev said they kissed so that Mike’s first kiss got to be with his best friend.”

“Yeah” Richie said, nodding again. A silence stretched between them, with Stan waiting for Richie to carry on speaking. But he didn’t. Stan slowly raised his eyebrows at Richie, waiting for him to catch the point. “What?” he asked, continuing to stare blankly back at Stan. Then realisation hit him. “Wait, are you asking – do you mean- Stan, are you asking for me to _kiss you_?!”

“You don’t have to sound so disgusted” Stan joked, only mildly affronted by the horrified look on Richie’s face.

“That’s insane, I can’t kiss you!”

“Why not?”

“Because!”

“Wow. Eloquent.” Stan snarked. He watched in amusement as Richie desperately floundered to form words.

“It would be weird Stan. Besides, I don’t want your pity kiss.”

“I don’t pity you. I think you’re being completely over dramatic and worrying about nothing. But I know it’s important to you so here I am, offering my services as best friend extraordinaire.”

“I think this goes a little above best friend duties.”

“Richie I don’t get what the problem is. You want a first kiss, and I’m having to practically beg you to kiss me.”

“Oh, you’re _begging_ me?” Richie spluttered with an evil grin. Stan ignored him and continued before Richie could make any kind of sex joke. He wouldn’t let him joke his way out of this just because he felt awkward, he knew how important this was to Richie.

“If you don’t want to its fine, I mean it’s not like I was awake half the night agonising over this decision or anything.” Stan deadpanned. Richie looked down at the floor and Stan sighed. “Look, if you really don’t want to then of course we won’t kiss. But you seemed so upset about it the other day, I just thought I would be a better alternative than a drunk at a bar.” Richie stayed silent. “Unless…Are you against this because it’s _me_?” Stan asked, and Richie looked back up quickly.

“It’s not because it’s you Stan, I just can’t believe that you’re even offering.”

“So let’s get on with it then” Stan said, his brisk tone hiding the strange sense of relief he felt from knowing that Richie didn’t find him entirely repulsive.

Richie crossed his arms over himself and scuffed his foot on the floor. “This would be your first kiss too though. Why would you want it to be with me when it could be with someone you like?”

“Well, why not you? You were my first ever friend, you can be my first ever kiss too.”

“Doesn’t it bother you? It being with me?” Richie asked quietly, eyes back on the floor.

“I don’t care about kisses or any of this kind of stuff. I never have. But _you_ care.” Richie looked up at Stan with a bashful smile. Stan straightened his back and cleared his throat. “Come on then. Stand up.”

“What, you want to do it right now?” Richie fidgeted uncomfortably.

“Yes now” Stan answered, but Richie still hesitated. “What’s the problem?”

“Nothing” Richie answered but Stan frowned at him until he told the truth, “I don’t know, it just seems a bit….I don’t know. Not how I imagined a first kiss.”

“Oh I’m sorry, clearly I’m not good enough. Shall I go fetch some candles and potpourri so you feel wooed?” Stan shot back, exasperated. He had expected Richie would react with embarrassment and awkwardness at Stan’s offer, but he had never expected to be standing here feeling so rejected.

Richie scowled at him. “What the fuck is popry?”

“I don’t know. My mom has it, it’s like smelly dry flowers or something. It’s not the point.”

“I just thought it would be more romantic” Richie said, scratching the back of his neck.

“You don’t have a romantic bone in your body!” Stan scoffed.

“That’s not true!” Stan just scoffed at him again. “It’s not! I could be romantic.”

“Name one romantic thing you have ever done in your life.”

“I just haven’t had the chance yet.” Richie said with a sniff.

“Well I’m sure you’ll get plenty of chances to romance your future boyfriends. For now you’re stuck with me, no wooing required.” 

Richie chewed his lip for a moment. “Ok” he uttered, more to himself than Stan. Richie stood up slowly and nervously wiped his hands on his trousers.

Suddenly, Stan didn’t know what to do or say. They both stood awkwardly facing one another, but not looking at each other. Stan took a tentative step towards Richie, who stood completely still. Stan took another step closer, so they were standing toe to toe. He leaned forward slightly, and Richie began chewing his bottom lip. Stan let out a nervous titter. “Kinda hard to kiss you when you’re busy eating your lip” he teased.

“Right. Sorry.” Richie blushed and released his lip, nervously adjusting his glasses. Richie looked at him then, and Stan could see the apprehension in his eyes. Stan inhaled a shaky breath as he glanced quickly down to Richie’s lips, then gently moved his head forward until his lips softly pressed against Richie’s.

It felt as though there was an electric current running through his veins. He had time to close his eyes and inhale gently through his nose before Richie pulled back with the softest smile on his face as he stepped away. The kiss was over before it began, yet Stan felt his heart leap to his throat and his stomach swoop down to his feet.

“Thank you” Richie said softy, still with a smile on his face. Stan could only nod, trying to regain his composure. He hadn’t expected to feel anything at all, let alone actually enjoy a kiss. There was a short moment where they both stood facing each other, just smiling. Then Stan had to turn away.

“I’ve gotta go” he said regretfully. He felt like this was a moment where he should stay with Richie, but he had run out of time. 

“Wait. What was the third thing?”

“Oh!” Stan blurted. It was rare for Stan to blush, he had trained himself well in the art of avoiding potentially embarrassing situations, or at the very least pretending not to be embarrassed. Yet he could physically feel himself turning red. He could feel the heat in his cheeks spread across his whole body, which made him even more embarrassed _knowing_ that he was turning red. The problem with Stan ever blushing was that it was never subtle, it was never like when Richie’s cheeks turned pink or a flush went up his neck. No, for Stan it spread across his entire face, neck and torso until even his hands seemed to glow. Richie had always sworn that he once saw Stan become so embarrassed by his own blushing that he turned purple. Stan had been so sure of this plan before he kissed Richie, but now he felt insecure. “It was a stupid idea” he began. “It’s just that you can’t go around looking at guys Richie, it’s too dangerous. So I think that if you ever find yourself wanting to look at someone, you should look at me instead.”

Richie’s eyebrows shot to the top of his head. “Stan, are you saying I should start checking you out?”

“No! Not like that! I just mean…look, you said yourself that Johnson caught you looking because you were _curious_. So, if you feel curious again, just look at me instead. No one will notice you looking at me, and even if they did they will just think you’re glancing over at a friend. Think of it like research, or a science project. I know I’m not muscly or anything like that, but for now I guess I’ll have to do. This way is….well, it’s just safer this way.”

Richie’s face had also turned beet red, and he was staring at his hands rather than look at Stan. Stan’s stomach flipped. He had thought Richie would react by laughing and making a few jokes, he hadn’t meant to embarrass him. All he wanted was to help Richie, and it was a solid plan. A few seconds of silence passed. Then another five seconds. The only sound filling the room was Fizzgig running around in his ball, and Richie still wouldn’t look him in the eye. Stan shifted uneasily and was about to open his mouth to say something when Richie finally mumbled out an “ok”, so quiet that Stan almost missed it. 

Stan practically ran out of Richie’s house after that. He quickly cycled through the rain, his face still burning red. But he couldn’t keep the grin from his face or the laugh that escaped his throat as the weight of what had just happened in the space of only fifteen minutes settled over him.

He was panting heavily when he arrived home. “Stan?” his mom called from the kitchen.

“It’s me! I’ll be in the second.” Stan stood in the hallway, catching his breath, running his hands through his hair, and trying to compose his face into a neutral expression in the mirror. He couldn’t stop the grin from returning to his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally happened!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting, I caught a cold and it absolutely wiped me out! But I'm back now :)   
> Warning: there is a racist language in this chapter (in the last paragraph if you want to skip the opening line). I thought about not including it but I think it's important to show how awful it is to be on the receiving end of such comments.

The following Saturday Stan found himself hovering over his desk in his room, frozen with indecision. He had not long returned from Temple and should have already left by now to meet Richie at the lamppost. But he found himself unable to move, his kippah clutched tightly in his hands. Last Saturday when he had come home from Richie’s he had been convinced his parents would take one look at him and instinctively _know_ something had happened. He had been certain of it, and he had been nervous and jumpy ever since. Although he didn’t feel guilty or ashamed at all over what had happened between him and Richie, he did feel a strange sense of guilt and unease at having deceived his parents. He had never done something so rebellious before, and as a way of easing his feelings of guilt he had made sure to come straight home from school every day just as his parents wanted, and had also taken to wearing his kippah whilst inside the house. His dad tried to hide it but Stan could tell he was delighted, which in turn made Stan feel better. He didn’t feel like so much of a bad son if he could make his dad happy.

Today would be the first time Stan would be alone with Richie since the kiss, and his stomach scrunched up with nerves at the thought of it. They had arranged to go for the ice cream Richie had apparently been craving all week, and when Richie had first suggested it Stan had assumed that all of the Losers would be going. It wasn’t until they said goodnight at the lamppost yesterday that Richie had oh so casually mentioned it would only be the two of them. Stan had barely slept, although he wasn’t sure why he was so anxious. They hadn’t been alone together or been in a private enough space to talk about the kiss, but it wasn’t like anything had changed between them. They still acted the same around each other at school and when cycling home, so why would today be any different? And yet, for reasons which remained a mystery to Stan, the thought of leaving his kippah behind today made him feel uneasy. It was almost like he needed it as a safety blanket despite the fact he hadn’t worn it outside in public in years, besides going to and from Temple of course. On the other hand, the thought of wearing something which would inevitably draw attention to himself made him feel self-conscious, hence why he had been hovering in his room all this time. Making a snap decision he carefully pinned the kippah in place and made his way out of the door, calling out a quick goodbye to his parents as he left.

Richie was already there waiting when Stan arrived at the lamppost, which annoyed Stan probably more than it should have. He could count on his hands the number of times Richie had arrived anywhere on time, and it frustrated him that Richie always had the audacity to act all high and mighty whenever he did. Sure enough, Stan could clearly make out Richie’s smug expression as he cycled closer. “Well well well Stan!” Richie tsked, “What time do you call this? Such tardiness, oh how the mighty Mr punctual has fallen!”

Stan tried to think of a good come back, but fell flat. The best he could come up with was some lame joke about Mr punctual being dead and going by Mr cool now, but he didn’t think that would be very funny at all. “Shut up Richie” Stan grumbled instead, wishing he could keep up with Richie the same way Eddie did.

“Ohhh, someone’s grumpy today!” Richie continued. Stan heaved a sigh instead of answering. “What’s up, you get in trouble with the Rabbi or something? Start a riot at Temple? Come on, what’s with the grumpy frown?” Richie asked with a smirk.

“Nothing!” Stan snapped, although he hadn’t meant to snap. He wasn’t sure why he was being such an asshole right now but he felt riled up at Richie’s constant teasing.

“Aww don’t be like that!” Richie reached out to pinch Stan’s cheek but Stan swatted him away which made Richie laugh even more. “Come on! Turn that frown upside -“ Richie stopped speaking midsentence, hand poised near Stan’s face. He was looking at the top of Stan’s head, his eyes widening as he noticed Stan’s kippah. “Oh!” was all he said. Richie made an odd movement with his outstretched arm, almost like he was about to touch Stan’s hair, but then abruptly pulled his arm back to his side. Stan furiously fought against the blush he could feel threatening to break out. “I uhh, I haven’t seen you wear that in years.”

Stan glanced away and gave a half-hearted shrug. “I just didn’t take it off after Temple is all” He replied, pretending that it was no big deal.

“What happened? Your head get cold or something?” Richie joked after a notable pause, and Stan shoved at him nearly causing him to fall off his bike. “Is today a special occasion then?” Richie asked while he re-balanced himself. Stan could hear that Richie’s voice was odd, like he was forcing himself to sound casual.

“No” Stan replied, more bluntly than he intended.

“Oh. Ok. So how come you’ve started wearing it again?” Richie pressed.

“Do I need a reason?” Stan asked, tone defensive.

“No, of course not. But you have to admit it’s a bit out of the blue, you haven’t worn it in years. Are you sure there’s no special reason why you’re wearing it today?”

“Does it matter?”

“No” Richie answered, his voice still sounding strange. “I just wondered if maybe…..”

“Maybe what?” Stan snapped.

Richie looked away from him quickly and didn’t answer for a moment. “Nothing, forget it” he said in a small voice.

Stan mentally scolded himself. Just because he was in a shitty anxious mood didn’t mean he had to be an ass to Richie. “Come on then, tell me what you wondered” he said with resigned sigh.

Richie looked back to Stan, his uncertain eyes searching Stan’s face for something. “I just…I wondered if maybe you were trying to score brownie points with God or something.”

Stan screwed his face up in confusion. “It doesn’t work like that dumbass. Anyway, why would I need to score points?”

Richie’s eyes bored into Stan’s. Stan looked away first, unable to take the scrutiny any longer. He thought he knew what Richie was trying to say, but he was not prepared to discuss it. “Are we actually gonna get ice cream today or what?” he asked instead. Richie kept his intense gaze on Stan for a moment longer, then finally looked away with a small nod. “Come on then, let’s go already” Stan insisted, then began cycling without looking back at Richie.

Neither of them spoke until they got to the main road, which Stan hated. It was strange, normally when they were together Richie wouldn’t stop talking and Stan would wish for a moment of quiet, but then when Richie _was_ silent it made Stan feel awful. He never knew what to say to make it better. Luckily for him though, Richie hated uncomfortable silences just as much as he did.

“Hey, Stan?” Richie asked in a serious tone as he brought his bike in line with Stan’s.

“Mmmm?”

“What do cats have for breakfast?”

“Huh?” Stan asked, bewildered.

“A meowful.”

There was a stunned silence for a second, then Stan let out a noise somewhere between a groan and a strangled cry. “Fucking awful!” Stan complained, the awkwardness between them gone. Richie was happily chuckling at his own joke and was deaf to Stan’s complaints. “Just for that, _you_ can pay for the ice cream” Stan stated, and he laughed at the incredulous look on Richie’s face. 

Stan refused to relent in his punishment for Richie’s terrible joke when they got into town, and insisted Richie go and buy the ice creams while Stan waited with the bikes. He wheeled them both around to the corner of the diner while he waited, and propped them up against the alley wall. After a few moments of waiting, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He had the distinct feeling he was being watched, but when he peered out from the alleyway he couldn’t see anyone he recognised. He retreated a little further back out of sight, and told himself he was just feeling self-conscious again. He ignored the itchy feeling at the back of his neck, but then the unmistakable smell of smoke reached his nose and voice spoke softly from behind him.

“Hey kike” the voice said, and suddenly before Stan had even had a chance to turn around someone grabbed him from behind. A hand covered his mouth preventing him from crying out, and strong arms forced him backwards into the alleyway. A hard kick to the stomach completely winded him, and Stan fell to the floor as the pair of arms released him. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t get back up. He could only lay there, wheezing for breath. He was helpless as he was dragged further into the alleyway by his shirt, and felt something snag at his arm. Weakly, he tried to struggle but he was completely winded. He dimly recognised the brown leather arm of Johnson’s jacket as he was hauled upwards and propped against the wall, and had time to register that Craig Smith was also standing there beside him, before Johnson punched him twice to the face. The force of each blow knocked Stan’s head back and it ricocheted off the wall each time, until Johnson grabbed his head and tore the kippah away, ripping out chunks of hair along with it. There was another sharp kick to his ribs which sent him to the floor, and Stan scrambled to sit back up. The initial shock was wearing off and he knew he had to get up, he couldn’t just lie there. As he turned his body around to desperately try and get away, he caught sight of a pair of feet running towards them. Stan couldn’t help but let out a small sob, thinking that it was another of Johnson’s friends. But then, with an _oomph_ sound, Stan saw Johnson’s legs fly past him and crash to the floor in a pile of limbs. He strained to turn his head around from the odd angle he was at, and could make out bodies wrestling on the floor. _Richie_. Stan used the wall to heave himself up and tried to run to help, but he was wrenched away by Craig who Stan had entirely forgotten about. He felt the blow to the back of his head and felt himself fall to his knees, but he suddenly felt strangely disjointed from his body. His only thought before he blacked out was that he needed to get to Richie, he needed to help. 


	11. Chapter 11

Stan felt strong hands on his back shaking him roughly, and he came to with a loud groan of pain. As soon as he opened his eyes he looked around him frantically, but could only see one pair of legs beside him. He turned over and saw Richie’s bloodied face looking down at him.

“Where –” he began, but Richie interrupted him by gently placing his hands on Stan’s shoulders and making _shhh_ noises.

“It’s ok. They’ve gone.”

Stan carefully rolled back over and dragged himself over to the wall, wincing at the pain in his ribs. Propping himself up against the wall, he risked a swift glance at Richie and took note of his swollen lip and cut face. Richie hadn’t taken his eyes off him, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet Richie’s concerned expression. Stan felt ashamed of himself. Richie had come to help him, and in return Stan had done nothing to help Richie.

“You scared the shit outta me” Richie breathed as he walked over to him and leaned on the wall next to him. Stan found he couldn’t answer. His mind was still trying to catch up, it had all happened so quickly. He felt shocked and hurt, but more than anything else he felt angry. Angry at himself for being stupid enough to wear his kippah when he should have known it would aggravate people, and angry at the world that he should have to hide who he was. That plus the feeling of shame at not having helped Richie made Stan close to tears and he didn’t trust himself to speak. He swallowed thickly and dimly became aware of the taste of blood. He brought his hand up to touch his own swollen lip and recoiled as he saw the deep cut on his arm. “ _Shit_ ” he breathed out, remembering the snag he felt on his arm as he was being dragged backwards and realising he must have cut it on some glass on the floor somewhere. 

“Let me see” Richie demanded, and moved closer so he could take hold of Stan’s arm. Richie’s expression darkened as he examined the cut. “Was this Johnson? Did he cut you?”

Stan shook his head slowly, feeling dazed. It was odd, he didn’t feel any pain but ever since he noticed the cut he felt a bit like he was floating. The thought of _floating_ made him feel physically sick, and for a brief moment he was sure he was going to throw up. The feeling left as soon as it came though, and he came crashing back down with a flinch as Richie’s fingers grazed close to the cut. He jerked his arm away.

“Do you think it will scar?” Stan whispered. He hated the sound of fear in his voice, but the very last thing he needed was another scar.

Richie’s expression instantly softened. “I don’t think it will, but it would look pretty badass if it did! You could make up some wild story about it.”

“I don’t have a story, I didn’t do anything. You did all the fighting” Stan mumbled, prodding at his arm. The pain from the cut was starting to register more now, and he wished he could go back to feeling numb. He still felt very dazed, and he wondered if he might have a concussion. He couldn’t seem to focus on anything.

“Yeah, I was pretty awesome right? A real life hero, you should have seen me Stan! I took on _both_ of them and scared them off!” he laughed. Richie didn’t say anything more for a moment, still holding on to Stan’s arm. Stan brought his free hand up to tentatively touch the side of Richie’s face and grimaced as he felt how swollen and hot it was. Richie gently pulled Stan’s hand away and despite the fact that he was now holding both of Stan’s arms he didn’t let go, and Stan didn’t try to make him. Richie stared at him while they paused for a moment, and Stan suddenly wanted more than anything for Richie to hug him. Richie began chewing at his lip and Stan was just about to pull him into his arms when Richie’s expression suddenly brightened. “Did you know that I’m taller than Johnson now?” he asked, beaming like he had just won a race.

“You’ve been taller than him for ages. Like a year I think.”

“Oh. I didn’t realise until today.”

“You would have if you weren’t always so hunched over.” Stan said as he wiggled his hands in Richie’s grip to get his attention. Richie helped haul him to his feet and Stan whimpered slightly as pain shot through his ribs when he stood.

They walked back to the front of the alleyway, and Stan noticed Richie was limping badly. Stan reached out to grab Richie’s arm but Richie flinched and pulled away. “Come on” Stan encouraged, “you can lean on me.”

“I’m fine” Richie mumbled, and started limping away. Stan sighed and followed him. He had thought Richie was over his weirdness about touching, but clearly he was wrong.

Richie gave a dramatic sigh as they passed the ice creams he must have dropped when he saw what was happening. “What a waste” he lamented.

“Next one’s are on me” Stan offered, and Richie smiled at him. The smile dropped off his face as he looked to Stan’s side and grimaced. “Shit, Stan – your bike!”

Stan turned to see the buckled and twisted frame of his bike lying next to Richie’s untouched one. “Fuck!” he cursed out, giving it a small kick and succeeding only in hurting himself. He took one deep calming breath and let it out slowly, trying to push the gutting feeling down. _It’s just a bike_ he told himself. He glared at it for moment, as though it was the bikes fault he got beaten up. He took another breath, and on the exhale he imagined all the hurt and sadness he was feeling formed into a tiny little rock which he buried deep within him.

“Those assholes” Richie cursed from behind him.

He turned back to Richie, masking his pain with a carefree smile. “Well, looks like you’re driving us home then. Come on” he said briskly, and winced as he picked up Richie’s untouched bike from the floor. He leaned on the bike for support as he waited for the pain to subside.

“What about your bike?”

“It’s broke” Stan said bluntly.

“We can’t just leave it here” Richie protested.

“Who the hell is going to steal a broken bike Richie? The most someone will do is move it next to a garbage can”

“Why don’t you go ahead and take the bike home and I’ll just –”

“Richie, forget the fucking bike. Let’s just go.” he wheeled Richie’s bike away and didn’t look back.

Richie limped to stand beside him and gestured down at his leg. “I think you’d better pedal” he joked feebly. 

“Lazy ass” Stan teased, swinging his leg over Richie’s bike with a groan of pain. He looked back to Richie, who hadn’t moved. “Come on then, hop on.”

Richie hesitated for a second, then climbed onto the back of the bike. He carefully placed his arms on Stan’s shoulders and his touch was so light that Stan wondered if Richie was purposefully trying to touch him as little as possible.

The cycle home seemed to take forever, although they only stopped once so Stan could have a short rest. It was only the thought of being clean again which gave him the strength to keep pedalling, despite the protests from his ribs telling him to take a break. He was determinedly not looking at the blood dripping from his cut, but he knew that he was getting blood all over himself and his clothes. The thought made him feel itchy all over. He never could stand being dirty, even when he was a child.

As soon as they went into Richie’s house Stan went straight into the bathroom to run his arm under the sink tap to wash away the drying blood. He heard Richie call out that he was going to find a first aid kit, but his voice seemed to come from far away and Stan barely heard him. The only thing Stan could focus on was getting _clean_. He started rubbing furiously at his arm, ignoring the pain. Once satisfied, he straightened up only to accidentally glance in the mirror and see his scarred face looking back at him. The side of his face and his neck was covered in dried blood and dirt from where he had been lying on the floor, and his whole being seemed to zone in on the dirt. He rubbed a wet hand across his neck but it wasn’t coming off. He couldn’t stand it, it felt like his whole body was suffocating. Suddenly, he couldn’t breathe. He tore off his shirt and desperately tried wiping at his sides where he imagined dirt to be.

He carried on this way for a few moments, not able to think of anything but the dirt. He didn’t even hear the sound of Richie dropping the first aid supplies as he walked into the bathroom.

“Hey! Hey, stop that!” Richie cried out as he came to Stan’s side and grabbed hold of his arms to stop him scratching. Stan tried to wrench his arms away but Richie’s grip didn’t loosen. “Here, stop. Let me.” he said. He released his arms and Stan instantly clamped them to his sides, trying to hide the marks he was certain would be there from where he scratched himself. Richie didn’t notice, he was too busy grabbing a towel from the side and wetting it under the tap. He lightly pushed Stan down so that he was sitting on the edge of the bathtub. Gently, he wiped at the side of Stan’s neck. Stan stared blankly ahead of him as Richie washed him, not focusing on anything and letting his mind slowly empty.

“Lift your arm” Richie commanded, but Stan hesitated. Although he still felt strangely empty and dazed, he was present enough to know that showing Richie the damage he had surely just done to himself would be a bad idea. No one had seen him like this since they were kids, and letting Richie see that things like this still affected him was a little too close to Richie finding out the whole truth. “It’s ok Stan. Just lift your arm for me so I can see.” Stan closed his eyes and slowly lifted his arm. “ _Stan_ ” Richie breathed as he saw. Stan risked opening his eyes, expecting anger or disgust from Richie, but he couldn’t quite figure out what emotion was on Richie’s face as reached out and softly brushed his fingers over Stan’s side. As soon as Richie caught him looking he wiped his face into a neutral expression, letting out a shaky breath and anxiously adjusting his glasses. Richie came to Stan’s side and sat down next to him, wrapping his arm over Stan’s shoulder whilst Stan lowered his head in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry” Stan mumbled.

“It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not” Stan said, and Richie didn’t say anything. Stan hated that Richie wasn’t saying anything, he _always_ knew what to say to make people feel better yet here he was completely mute. The longer the silence stretched out, the worse Stan felt. He still felt an itch and it was taking everything in him not to grab the towel and carry on washing.

“I think we should make out” Richie said abruptly and Stan’s head whipped round to face him. He saw the glint in his eyes though and realised Richie was just trying to distract him by joking around. “There’s too much sexual tension right now, you could cut this passion with a knife I tell ya!” Richie added, cracking himself up.

“Absolutely not” Stan deadpanned.

“Just once?” Richie asked in a sing song voice.

“Once normally leads to two” Stan pointed out. He knew Richie was only joking but couldn’t prevent the blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Bit presumptuous there Stanley” Richie laughed, “Who says you’re good enough for two?”

Stan elbowed Richie’s side and laughed along with him, but it sounded hollow. Richie noticed. “Where else?” Richie asked but Stan barely heard him. “Stan!” Richie repeated sternly, but when Stan looked up Richie had a soft expression. “Where else do you think is dirty Stan?” he asked gently.

“Everywhere” Stan whispered back.

“Ok” Richie answered. He stood back up and ran the towel across Stan’s shoulders and down his back, causing Stan to shiver as he brought the towel back up along his spine.

“Is that a new tickle spot!?” Richie asked gleefully. 

“No” Stan protested, “I think it was more like a reflex. You know, like when you get tapped on the knee and your leg jerks out? It felt kinda like that.” Stan could tell by Richie’s small grin that he was planning on using that against him at some point, but for now he carried on wiping away the imaginary dirt. Stan knew it wasn’t really there, he _knew_ that, but nevertheless it still made him feel better thinking that it was being cleaned away. He closed his eyes and kept his head down as Richie began wiping at his sides, and didn’t open them until he felt Richie pause as he wiped back up along his collar bone. Stan opened his eyes to see Richie staring at his torso. He shifted his shoulders nervously and Richie’s eyes snapped up to meet Stan’s. He immediately pulled his hands away and took a step back.

“That wasn’t, I swear I wasn’t…” Richie stammered, face turning crimson. “I was just checking for more injuries” he continued, and Stan snorted at Richie’s obvious lie.

“It’s ok” Stan quickly reassured him.

“I’m sorry” Richie whispered.

“It’s ok, I don’t mind. Like I said, it’s….it’s safe.” He finished lamely, feeling more than a little self-conscious. But he had told Richie that it was safer to look at him and he was going to stick to that, no matter how awkward he felt in his own body.

Richie turned away from him and set the towel onto the sink. He picked up Stan’s shirt and wordlessly handed it back to him. Stan stood back up as he took it from him. “What about yours?” he asked, gesturing towards Richie’s face as he pulled his arm through the sleeve. He stepped closer to Richie, who moved further back.

“Huh?”

“Your injuries. Let me check your face.” Stan stepped closer again, and Richie bumped into the sink as he tried to move away.

“I’ll be fine” Richie answered with a shrug. Stan ignored him and took Richie’s chin in one hand, turning his face from side to side to examine it. Richie stared at a spot above Stan’s head as he checked the cut on Richie’s face. Once satisfied, he let go with a grin. “It’s not too bad. Don’t worry, you won’t be an old scar face like me” he reassured him.

Richie slid past Stan and made towards the door. “You know, it’s funny” he said as he stopped and looked back at Stan, “I always forget you have scars. When I look at your face I don’t notice them. I just see you.”

Stan didn’t know if it was the words, the tone of voice, or the expression on Richie’s face as he said it which made Stan’s heart skip a few beats. _I just see you_.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies! I know, its been a long time since I last posted. I completely lost confidence in myself, and convinced myself I couldnt do this. But if 2020 has taught me anything, its that I might as well try because who knows whats around the corner! How is everyone coping?

Stan took longer than necessary fussing over the cut on his arm. Now that he had had a few moments alone in the bathroom he was realising the full weight of what Richie had just witnessed. Stan hadn’t had an episode like that since childhood and he was dreading stepping out of the bathroom to face Richie. But he also knew that the longer he stayed hidden inside the bathroom, the more of a freak Richie would think he was. He needed to get ahead of this, he needed to somehow convince Richie that he was absolutely fine.

Stan took a slow, deep breath then walked out of the bathroom to join Richie in the kitchen, where he was busy getting them both drinks from the fridge. Richie turned abruptly when he heard Stan step into the room, and he looked faintly embarrassed. He was nowhere near as embarrassed as Stan though, who felt like his whole body was aflame.

Stan pulled out a chair at the table and sat down. They were both quiet, and Stan knew that Richie was waiting for him to speak first. The sound of the clock ticking echoed around the room as Stan busied himself with picking at the skin around one of his nails while he planned what to say. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Richie watching him intently, probably waiting for Stan to freak out again.

He felt nervous and self-conscious, but he forced himself to meet Richie’s gaze as he pulled out a chair to sit beside Stan. He gave Richie a hollow smile which they both knew was completely fake and empty.

“Sorry about that. I guess even robots like me malfunction sometimes” Stan began, with a fake laugh.

“You’re not a robot Stan” Richie sighed. He was quiet for a moment and seemed to be searching Stan’s face for something. Stan wasn’t sure what he was looking for. The seconds continued to tick by loudly and neither of them looked away from one another.

The quietness hummed in Stan’s ears, blurring his thoughts. “Maybe that really is my problem though Richie. I’m not really a real person.” Stan hadn’t meant to voice that particular thought out loud. It wasn’t the first time he had thought that. He didn’t have a strong personality like the others and he often found himself thinking that he was barely a person; that he simply just existed as a side character in other people’s stories.

Richie scoffed at him in response, thinking that he was joking.

“I’m being serious” he said to Richie. Stan knew one of the perks of having a deadpan sense of humour like his was that he could easily hide his feelings with throw away comments like that. But it also meant that it was sometimes hard to show when he _was_ being sincere.

“Sure you are Pinocchio. I know you better than that.”

Stan looked away from Richie then. He didn’t know whether to be pleased or disappointed that he had gotten away with blurting out one of his darker thoughts. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do” he simply said.

“Yes I do” Richie protested. Stan suddenly felt incredibly sad and lonely, knowing that Richie really didn’t know him. Not fully. How could he, when Stan kept so much locked up in secret. It wasn’t fair to expect Richie to understand him.

“Try me” Richie continued, oblivious to Stan’s inner monologue. When Stan didn’t answer Richie let out an annoyed huff, clearly losing patience with Stan’s self-pitying behaviour. “You know what, you’re right. I’ve known you all our lives and you’re still a complete stranger to me." his voice dripped with sarcasm. Stan picked at the skin around his nail some more, not knowing what to say and not knowing what Richie wanted from him.

Richie huffed again. “OK then let’s play a game. Truth or lie. You say something about yourself and I’ll tell you whether you’re telling the truth or if you’re lying.”

“No”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s stupid.”

“Oh, you have something better to do right now?” Richie challenged with a short laugh. Stan looked up at him and give a resigned sigh. They both knew he would play the stupid game.

“You’re so weird” Stan said, resigning himself. 

“Should I pretend to be more normal?” Richie asked with a huge grin.

“Absolutely not” Stan answered, unable to suppress his own grin forming at the corners of his mouth. Richie’s expression softened. "Ok fine then let’s play your stupid game" he carried on, pretending to be exasperated. Neither of them said anything for a moment.

“Well go on then, say something!” Richie pushed. Stan tried to think of something to say.

“Err…” Suddenly Stan couldn’t think of a single thing to say and his voice trailed off uselessly.

“Seriously Stan it’s not hard, say anything. Literally anything that pops into your head.”

“Umm, my favourite film is Raiders of the Lost Ark”

“True” Richie answered quickly.

“My favourite band is -” Stan began, but was cut off by Richie.

“Lie”

“I didn’t get a chance to pick one!” Stan complained.

“You don’t have a favourite, you said before that you like too many to pick just one”

“My favourite colour is red”

“Lie”

“No! That one was true!”

Richie hummed softly. Stan let out a _humph_. “My favourite food is-“

“Come on Stan” Richie interrupted again. “This is all the easy stuff!”

“I can’t think of anything else!” Stan shot back. 

Richie raised his eyebrows towards Stan in a disbelieving look. “Your favourite film is Raiders of the Lost Ark because you said it completely blew your mind. You like red, but I think your favourite colour is actually green. Pizza is your favourite food. You’re only talking about the little stuff, stuff that doesn’t matter. What about the big things?”

Stan didn’t say anything because he didn’t trust himself to speak. He didn’t trust that more of his weirdness wouldn’t spill out of him and frighten Richie away. The silence stretched between them and Richie let out a frustrated groan, realising Stan wasn’t going to say anything.

“I do know you Stan. I know you have an insane need to please everyone and you hide what you really think because you’re so worried that what you think will offend someone. I don’t know why you think like that yet, but I will. I know you care more deeply about things than you ever let on. And I’ve always known that you hate being dirty. I’ve seen you react like that before.”

Stan’s body went completely still as he listened to Richie. He felt like he was being called out on being a fake, a fraud. It was everything he had ever feared being brought out into the open, and he didn’t know what to do.

“When?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “When did you see me hate being dirty?”

“When the dog bit you.”

Stan startled in surprise. He thought Richie didn’t remember anything from that day either. “What happened?” he asked eagerly. “Do you remember how I got bit?” Stan’s gut twisted in a nauseating way as he asked.

“No.” Richie trailed off, wincing as he rubbed at his temple. “I remember how scared I was though, I remember thinking you had died or something. And I remember you cared more about the dirt than the bite. I remember you said you could handle everything else but you couldn’t stand being dirty.”

Stan was somewhat stunned. He had always tried to hide that part of himself from everyone because he wanted his friends to like him. But now Richie knew, and had always known. And maybe that was okay.

He had an urge to tell Richie more, to tell him everything. He was so embarrassed by this point that he wondered if it could really do much more harm to let everything else tumble out from him, to let it all out into the open.

He parted his lips and took a breath. Then took another. He gripped his hand into a fist on the table as the nauseating feeling in his stomach coiled into a tight knot of anxiety. He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t bring himself to voice any of it out loud. Because if he said it out loud, if he admitted it, then it became real. It wouldn’t be just thoughts in his head anymore, it would be real and officially happening if he talked about it.

“Hey” Richie softly spoke, “stop. Whatever it is that you’re thinking, stop”. Stan exhaled, frustrated and embarrassed. He uncurled his fist.

Richie was quiet for a few moments, then tentatively put his hand on Stan’s arm. “Please don’t think that I don’t know you, because sometimes I think I know you better than you know yourself."

Stan certainly didn’t like where this conversation was going. He felt exposed and needed to prevent any more of his weirdness from slipping out. "So you think you really know me huh? Nothing could shock you?" Stan made his voice sound playful but there was still a strangled note to his voice. He coughed quickly to hide it. He wasn’t even completely sure how to follow that sentence up, he just knew he needed to distract Richie fast.

A look crossed Richie’s face, almost like disappointment. Within a moment he was back to his usual smirking self, looking at Stan with an eyebrow raised in a challenge, waiting for Stan to say something.

“When I got bitten, I hated you a little bit” he blurted.

Richie blinked in surprise. “Why? Was it my fault?”

“No. I don’t think so. I can’t remember. But I know I was alone when it happened, and I know I was scared. All I could think about was when Eddie broke his arm falling off his bike and you were all over him, making sure he was ok. You practically carried him all the way to his house.”

Richie’s face had turned bright red and he looked away from Stan shiftily. “Well, ah. I was just lookin’ out for mah boy” Richie joked with some kind of accent, scratching at the back of his neck awkwardly. Stan stilled at that. He knew that Richie would be saying the same if it had been about any of them. _My boy, my friend_ , it meant the same thing. But Stan still felt the words sting and didn’t know why.

“Looking back, I think I was just scared and jealous.” Stan continued. “But at the time all I could feel was that I hated you.”

“Oh” was all Richie said, face still red.

“Surprised?” Stan asked, noting the upset expression on Richie’s face.

“Well…yeah. A little hurt actually.” Richie turned his face away from Stan.

Now it was Stan’s turn to scoff. “I’m the one who got hurt Richie, not you. Anyway it doesn’t matter now, I got over it before the day even ended. Besides, it happened years ago now.”

“It still hurts Stan! I mean, I’ve never hated you. Not once. And I cant remember what happened to you but you should’ve known I wouldn’t have left you. I wouldn’t leave you like that.” Stan felt a strange kind of echo pass through him at Richie’s words, almost like he had heard them said before.

“It was only for a little while. I could never properly hate you.” He said, regretting telling Richie any of it. He had meant to distract him, not make him sad. Richie hummed again in response. “Hey, um, Richie?” Stan hesitantly began. Richie didn’t answer out loud, but he did turn to face Stan again. “Could you please not tell the others? About the dirt thing? I think I’m ok with you knowing but I’m not ready to tell the others. Can we keep it secret?”

Richie paused, and Stan watched as his face shifted into a look of confusion. “Keep what a secret?” Richie asked. Stan was about to explain again when Richie gave him an exaggerated wink and clapped him on the shoulder. “Now my good man, let us feast and indulge!” he declared and abruptly stood up. Stan watched as Richie raided the cupboards for food, keeping up a constant stream of chatter as he did so. Stan knew what Richie was doing. He was pretending that nothing had happened, that nothing had changed. Stan joined in, desperate to pretend everything was ok. He clung to his best friend’s infectious humour, and stayed with Richie as long as he possibly could. He knew that once he went back home, once he was alone again, that he would go right back to being knotted up in self-doubt. He knew that when he curled up in bed that night his mind would loop with thoughts, and he was so sick of being sad, sick of being scared and anxious all the time. Sick of being himself. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thank you for clicking on my fic. This is the first time I have posted - I have never shown any of my writing to anyone before. I plan to try and post at least one chapter per week, as I think it will help me stick to deadlines and actually finish a piece of writing for once! I've always wanted to be a writer, but I've been so scared of failing that I have never let anyone see anything. I will never become an author if I don't start putting myself out there, so here goes. 
> 
> I started writing this as a small fan fiction, but the word count kept going up and up. I've had this idea knocking around in my head for a while - I have always loved Richie and Stan's friendship. I shipped them before I even knew what shipping was. Their characters, and the other Losers, are based on the characterisations from the book, TV series and 2017 film. I've loosely set it in 1994. I am not American, so apologies if there are any wrong pop culture references in here!
> 
> I hope you enjoy. Constructive criticism is very welcome!


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